Moments of Existence
by baconfaced
Summary: Spoilers up to 3x22. Peter begins living again.
1. Waking

AN: This is my first foray into Fringe fan fiction as well as publishing on . I haven't written seriously in years and I'm trying to get back into it, so feel free to critique.

Also, I need an outlet for my extreme Fringe obsession. I can't believe I passed my finals after that finale!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe, though I'd accept the rights if you bought me them. Can't promise the show would continue to be so awesome.

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><p>Peter's eyes snapped open. Which was odd, because the last that he could remember he didn't have eyes at all. But they were there, and he was seeing with them. He was in the lab, which he knew because he recognized the view from the couch. Sure enough, he could feel the cushion under him.<p>

Whoa. After a few months of not physically touching anything- or being a physical being, for that matter- the feel of the soft cushions underneath him, and the way that they reacted when he shifted his weight (weight!) could have kept him occupied for hours.

But along with seeing and feeling, he could also hear. And he heard the sound of fabric against fabric as something moved on the couch next to him.

He turned and his eyes, ears, and even nose quickly cued him in to the fact that it was not simply something- it was Olivia. And she did not simply move- she slid. Slid down. Almost all the way off the couch before Peter's hands felt her arms and squeezed them, using his muscles to stop her weight from dragging her to the floor. His eyes saw hers, but hers did not see his. They seemed intent on rolling into the back of her head.

"Walter!" Peter yelled out, pretty much instinctively. He didn't relish in the fact that he had a voice and that he had used it. All thought of delighting in the senses had been driven from his mind, and all that mattered now was that Olivia was not conscious.

?

Olivia stayed unconscious on the way to the hospital, during multiple examinations by a slew of doctors and Massive Dynamic scientists, and was still unconscious the next afternoon.

"Son?"

Peter looked up and saw Walter standing on the other side of Olivia's bed. When he saw that he had his son's attention, Walter continued. "Astrid brought you some lunch." He placed a greasy paper bag on bed table. "I'm going to get a ride home with her. You'll call me if there are any changes?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "I will."

"Good. And, Peter, please make sure you get some sleep. We don't want you in a hospital bed, too."

Part of Peter was glad that he was finally left alone by Olivia's bedside, occasionally munching on a fry. He appreciated Astrid's care, Broyles' concerned interrogations and Walter's use of his resources as Massive Dynamic CEO, but Peter would be glad to be left alone with his thoughts until Olivia woke up (or someone came in with a way to wake her up.) He really did have a lot to think about. Like how the hell he ended up in the lab when the last he could remember he was climbing the stairs up to the machine months earlier.

He knew that he knew where he had been. Or, at least, he knew he had known. He remembered wondering at his working eyes, ears, nose, skin, and tongue when he came to in the lab. But he seemed to have forgotten why he was wondering at everything as soon as he saw Olivia.

He hadn't been in a coma. He hadn't even been gone, according to Walter and Astrid. They were unsurprised to see him in the lab and referenced events of the past few months as if he had been there for all of it.

But he hadn't been. Had he?

Maybe it was some sort of amnesia. But what could have erased his memories and caused Olivia to pass out? There was nothing in the lab that could have done that, and both Walter and Astrid were fine. Not to mention Peter was pretty certain- for some unknown reason- that he did not remember the past three months because he had not lived them. But he had been _somewhere_. How had he known that months had passed?

He was also sure that he should not tell anyone about his sudden lack of memories. He told himself that he wanted the others to concentrate on Olivia's condition and purposely ignored the possibility of his amnesia being something that could help them figure out what had happened to her. In fact, his inability to even consider he was wrong to keep quiet further proved to him that this was not some attack on them by a dastardly enemy. He believed that, even if he couldn't remember why, all of this made sense, and would be okay.


	2. A Few Phone Calls

Peter's thoughts were not interrupted by Olivia waking, but by his phone ringing. He reflexively put it to his ear and emitted a gruff "Bishop."

"Peter. Hi," said the voice on the other line. It took Peter by surprise, because it was female but not Astrid. Just before he could pull the phone away from his ear to look at the caller ID, his brain clicked and he recognized the voice. _Shit_._ Rachel_.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Rachel started. "But do you know where Olivia is? I've been calling her for over a day, and we kind of have an agreement that if she doesn't respond to me in 24 hours that I can start calling around."

"Right. That makes sense," Peter rubbed his face and considered what exactly he should say. Olivia hated having her sister worry. "I'm actually with Olivia now, and she's fine, but she can't come to the phone."

"Is she working?"

Peter didn't want to lie, even though he was pretty sure that he should if he didn't want Olivia to wake up angry with him.

"No, she's not working."

"Oh really?" Peter heard Rachel's voice take on a new tone, a "_I wonder what you two have been doing..._" tone. But then that tone quickly went away after she considered it for a second. "But why can't she come to the phone?" she asked.

Peter decided that since Olivia wasn't going to yell at him at the moment, he might as well do what he thought was best for her. "Rach, she's asleep. In the hospital."

"What? What happened?"

"As far as we can tell, she's just tired."

"Tired?"

"Yeah, the doctors say it's acute exhaustion. I wasn't lying when I said she was fine."

"How long has she been out?"

"Since yesterday morning."

Peter could hear Rachel make a noise like a huff before she continued. "Next time, could you please tell me when my sister is in the hospital?"

"I can't promise that."

"Why not?"

"Olivia would probably kill me. She hates having you worry."

"I'm going to have to have a talk with my sister. When she gets up."

"Right. I'll tell her to call you first thing. Or maybe not first thing since I'll want to ask her if she's okay, and she'll want to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. When she gets home, I'll have her call you."

"Actually, she'll see me there. The reason I called was to remind her that Ella and I are coming back to her place."

"Oh. Did something happen?"

"Let's just say that our living arrangements were not working out."

Just then Peter's phone beeped and he realized he was getting another call. "Sorry, Rachel, someone else is calling me. I'm going to have to let you go."

"Text me when Olivia wakes up, alright?"

"Will do." Peter switched over and to his surprise, it was again a female who was not Astrid. But he recognized the voice that responded to his "Hello?" right away.

"Remember that long discussion we had about you seeing Henry on certain days?"

Henry. He knew who that was. How did he know who that was? For some reason, Peter felt like he had talked to his mother, Elizabeth, about his son. Maybe he had taken LSD again, or some other drug that would cause hallucinations and a few months of amnesia.

Though he did not remember the conversation about visitation, Peter decided to act like he did. "Liv, I'm sorry, I forgot."

"I packed a bag and a baby and I've been sitting here in the Bridge for an hour with agents from both sides giving me dirty looks. If you're going to forget these meetings, I do not have to go to the trouble-"

"I'm sorry. I've been a bit distracted because Olivia is in the hospital."

Liv took a second to respond to that, and when she did Peter could hear concern in her voice. "Is she going to be okay? Did something go wrong with the soft spots?"

"We don't know what happened exactly. She passed out yesterday and hasn't woken up, but all her tests have come back normal."

"Well, I hope she's okay. We can reschedule your visit with Henry."

"Really?" Peter almost couldn't fathom this sudden understanding.

"I'm not a heartless bitch. I know you need to be there so you can sit and wait for her to wake up, like you guys always do."

"What do you know about that?"

"I did read your guys' case files when I infiltrated your side. Every other one had a note from one of you about the condition of the other when they woke up in the hospital."

Peter took offense at that. "One of us doesn't end up in the hospital after every other case."

"Yes you do!" Liv laughed. "Your inferior investigative procedures- and skills- put one of you in the care of your inferior medical technology almost every case."

"At least we have coffee."

"That was a low blow, Bishop," Liv said coolly. Peter then heard a cry from the other end, and Liv's voice went back to its almost-cheerful tone. "Ah, Henry is getting fussy. Leave a message for me at the Bridge when Olivia wakes up, and I'll call you about rescheduling the visit."

"Okay. Thanks, Liv."

The other end clicked off and Peter took in all the new information. He had had a civil conversation with the only woman he had ever considered killing. That may be more surprising than waking up without any knowledge of the past three months.

Maybe a more mild-mannered version of himself had taken over his life temporarily. If so, Peter was pretty impressed with his ability to get on terms with Liv friendly enough for him to have regular visits with his son.

And how the hell did he know about his son? He certainly didn't have knowledge of Henry before entering the machine.

But once again, his thoughts were interrupted. This time, by Olivia opening her eyes.


	3. Drinks

"Peter," Olivia whispered, a grin spreading across her face. She reached over a steady hand and placed it on his stubbly cheek. He leaned over and touched her cheek in response. "Peter," she repeated, moving her hands to his hair, his ears, his neck, his shoulders, everything she could reach while she was in the bed and he was half in the chair. Her hands then went back to his face to touch his nose and his forehead and kept them pressed there. Peter watched her eyes as they poured over him until her hands pulled him closer so she could touch him with her lips.

Her lips met his lips first and then she made sure to press hers against his nose, cheek, and eyelids. It was only the fact that she was in a hospital bed that kept Peter from responding feverishly and touching every part of her wondrously soft, warm skin. He put his hands on the smooth skin of her collarbones and kept them still as her lips travelled.

After each facial feature had been felt, she asked "How'd I do?"

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, not taking his eyes away from her smile. She seemed happier than he had ever seen her. Her lips looked very nice, especially now that they had a little more color. And it had been so long since he had seen those teeth...

"Well you're here, aren't you?" Olivia interrupted his thought.

"Are you the reason I don't remember the past three months?" Peter moved his gaze up to her eyes, and saw the smile in them grow as the smile on her face did.

"That's partially your fault," Olivia told him. "But can I explain after we get out of here? I'm hungry."

Peter reached behind him and grabbed the bag of food Astrid had left him, keeping his eyes on her. "I ate all the fries, but you can eat the burger, if you want."

Olivia moved her left hand down to his, and then took the bag with her right to look at the burger. "I will eat this. On the way to a restaurant for a real meal." Peter opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Olivia cut him off. "I already know more than the doctors do, and they can't do anything for me here. I just need food."

"When did you go to medical school?"

Olivia rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, I don't know more than the doctors do about the medical profession. But I do know more than they do about my current situation, which is very, very, hungry. I'll stay if any of them are master chefs."

"Restaurant it is," Peter relented, and leaned back so she could get up. Olivia put the food down and got up, but kept her left hand in his right. Peter had to get up and move with her while she got her clothes and started changing. He used his free hand to send a few text messages.

When they got to his car, Olivia paused. At first Peter thought he was going to have to fight her to drive, even though it was his car and she didn't know that he hadn't slept for at least a day. But then he saw her look down at their hands. She still hadn't let go of his.

"I can get in on the passenger side, if you want," he told her.

She looked up, surprised that he seemed to read her mind. "It's crazy to make you do that."

"Not nearly the craziest thing that has happened in the past day," he said, opening the passenger door and getting in it. His balance was a little off with one hand being held captive, but he managed. "You're going to have to explain this to me," he said as Olivia climbed in.

"I'll try," she promised.

Driving with only his left has was a little awkward, but luckily he knew a bar and grill that wasn't too far away from the hospital. It even had a parking lot so he didn't have to parallel park one-handed.

Soon they arrived and on their way in Peter noticed a brown-haired man in a dark suit, munching on a burger forlornly. "He looks so sad."

"Yeah. Looks like he just came from a funeral."

"It's 9 o' clock at night." Peter glanced at the man now riffling through his fries.

The man looked up at Peter. Then down. Then up again. Peter squinted his eyes into a glare, ready to take Olivia's hand- she hadn't let go, even when he was driving- and pull her away. And then Peter realized that the man was checking him out. He half smiled and followed Olivia to a booth. A waitress quickly came over and got their orders.

The restaurant had a bar that was quickly filling up with baseball fans who hoped to see the Red Sox win their division in the game that was about to start. No one was sitting near them, which lacked a view of the TVs. Olivia was confident no one would overhear her and so she opened her mouth, ready to explain everything to Peter.

"Peter! Olivia!"

Walking over to them with a huge grin on his face was one Charlie Francis. Peter looked at Olivia in alarm, thinking the dead had come back to life (or maybe he was in a third universe). She answered his unspoken question with a sad smile, and Peter looked back to see Charlie had a scar on the side of his face.

"Hey Charlie!" Olivia said, turning her sad smile into a real grin. "What are you doing here?"

"The whole team of the day is here," Charlie said, pointing at a group of people who were just coming in. Peter recognized a Lincoln Lee picking up a menu and taking off his glasses to read it.

"Did it go well?" Olivia asked. Peter tried to look like he knew what she was referring to.

"I think it did," Charlie said, practically beaming. "We'll see what happens when I go back to the other side and test it there, but I think it worked."

"That's great!" Olivia hopped up and gave him a hug. Peter had to stand up as well, since Olivia was still claiming ownership over his right hand.

"Good job, man," he added. He gave Charlie a pat on the back so his getting up didn't seem too awkward.

Charlie noticed the hand-holding as they sat back down and gave them an understanding look. "Alright, I'm going to head back over. When you guys finish eating you should join us at the bar to celebrate and watch the game. Or, you know, enjoy your date. Whatever."

"Thanks, Charlie," Olivia smiled as he left. Their waitress came out with their food just then, and Olivia started scarfing down green beans.

"When you finish chewing, can you tell me what's been going on?" Peter asked. He was beginning to regret coming to a restaurant where there could be so many distractions. But his steak was pretty good, especially considering it had been months since he had tasted such delicious red meat.

Olivia nodded, swallowed, and then said "You ceased to exist."

"What?"

"You. Ceased. To. Exist." She repeated, cutting into her chicken.

That took Peter off-guard. Of all the things she could have said... he wouldn't have been too surprised if he had been possessed, or insane, or turned into a llama. But ceased existence? "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Olivia said, putting a forkful of the chicken in her mouth. "You did it to yourself though, so I suppose you could figure it out." Olivia paused as she considered what she had just said, and her grip on Peter's hand tightened slightly. "I'd prefer if you don't."

"What happened when I ceased to exist?"

"Everyone forgot about you. I forgot about you," Olivia's eyes seemed to sadden at that thought. "And then I started remembering, but no one else did, not even Walter."

"But if I didn't exist there was no me to kidnap. How did the war start?"

"Walter and Bell let their curiosity get the better of them, I think. I'm not sure if Walter ever told me the story, we weren't as close when you didn't exist. And even if he did, as soon as I started remembering you I didn't really care about that past."

Peter contemplated that for a second, and then asked "After you started remembering me, what did you do?"

"Punched September a few times."

"September? The Observer?"

"Yeah," Olivia took another bite and seemed uncomfortable at the same time. "I feel bad about it now, because he probably would have helped me anyway. I don't think it hurt him much, but still-"

"It's the thought that counts."

"Yeah. He told me that you had seen a 'possible future' and then came back to prevent it, but no one but them can know what could come to pass, so you ceased to exist."

"Wait, I travelled through time?" That was something Peter hadn't expected either.

"I guess so. He was never really clear."

Peter accepted that, knowing how the Observers seemed to thrive on mystery. "How did I come to re-exist?"

"Me," Olivia smiled and put some more food in her mouth.

"You? Like, did you just close your eyes and wish me into being?" An image of Olivia dressed as a genie came to mind. Luckily she was more attractive than an animated Robin Williams.

"Kind of," Olivia said. "It was a lot harder than just making a wish. It's all kind of fuzzy, too. I planned it all out and tried to make it so that everyone believed you had been there the whole time. And I decided to do it on the couch in the lab, so that in case something went wrong Walter or Astrid would notice. Luckily I didn't end the world or anything."

Olivia took a moment to look over to the bar where the group of Fringe agents were drinking. "I tried to change a few other things, too. To make Charlie and alternate Broyles alive again." Olivia's eyes moved down to the table and she seemed disappointed. "I guess I can't bring people back from the dead."

Peter rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Her last sentence should have made him want to laugh, but instead he only felt for her. If he could rewrite history he would have brought them both back, as well as his mother and quite a few others.

"Is me not remembering anything the reason I exist again?"

Olivia looked up at him. "Reason? I don't know. You couldn't exist knowing what was going to be, so I tried to make you come back without that knowledge."

"Then maybe I was always here."

"What?"

"I can't remember where I was before the lab, but I know that I immediately started marvelling at having a physical shape. I must have had some sort of consciousness when I didn't exist. I even had a vague idea of how long it had been well before I saw the date on my cell phone."

Olivia looked at him with something like wonder in her eyes. "Did we just prove that there is some sort of an afterlife? Or after-existence?"

"I don't know. I could be wrong. But if I'm right, and I was some sort of body-less being, then maybe you didn't make a whole new world with your mind. Not that you don't have some bad ass powers. You may have just used some sort of telepathy to erase part of my memory and then I was allowed to exist again."

"Huh," Olivia said, thinking it over. "I almost want to try and will something into existence again, just to see if you're right."

Peter glared at her, unamused.

"I won't, though," she assured him, amused at his glare. "Takes too much out of me. I have never been this tired and hungry before."

Peter looked at her plate, which was almost clear. "Do you want to head out and get some more sleep?"

"Oh no, I need dessert too."

She picked up the dessert and drink menu and called the waitress over so she could order something from each side. Peter ordered a beer as well, and listened to her fill him in on what he had missed during the past few months. She told him that the Presidents of both United States of Americas had been talking and that was a lot of complicated political maneuverings going on. Walter and scientists from Massive Dynamic had developed a device that seemed fix soft spots and after much debate and even more testing it was finally being used. The Fringe Divisions had formed teams that had members from both sides. They were systematically filling in the holes on our side, the teams trading off days so they could continue doing their regular jobs as well. Soon they would go Over There and start the process over again. If the device worked well enough, they could reverse the amber and free everyone who had been trapped.

After eating, talking, and seeing the Red Sox win with other members of the inter-universal Fringe Division, Peter and Olivia went back to his house and happily put off sleep for a few more hours.

It was after those hours had passed and they were ready to sleep when Peter thought of one more thing. His left arm was draped over Olivia, as it usually was, and his right was under her pillow. She had released her hold on his hand when they had entered his bedroom, and he was celebrating its freedom by playing with the loose strands of her hair.

He knew she was still awake, so he shared what he had remembered. "There's something that doesn't make sense. When I woke up, I knew who Henry was."

"Henry?" Olivia asked, shifting herself so she could see him. "Who's Henry?"

* * *

><p>Author's Note: The guy in a suit eating a hamburger is David Fisher from Six Feet Under. He has nothing to do with this story, but I asked my friend to look over what I wrote while we watched a 6FU episode. She added David in because he said he was going to Fatburger for dinner. Even though Peter and Olivia are not in Los Angeles and they did not go to Fatburger, I didn't erase it. My friend, Julia, has been pretty awesome in pointing out mistakes and giving me suggestions, so yay her! Too bad she exists less than Peter does. (Inside joke... or is it?)<p> 


	4. A Brief Look Elsewhere

Lincoln Lee spooned some soup into his mouth, enjoying his lunch time in the Bridge. He had spent the morning going over details on all the remaining soft spots, which seemed to change day by day. He almost wished he could pull his eyes out so he would never have to look at another report again.

"Do you ever do any work, boss?"

"Much more than you do," Lincoln looked up to see Charlie standing over him. "I work so hard, I actually earn my breaks."

Charlie smirked and sat across from him, putting his feet up on the white plastic table. "Is there any more of that?" he gestured towards the soup.

"I might have taken the last of the Italian Wedding. But there's some chicken noodle and sausage gumbo." Lincoln ate another spoonful and Charlie stayed seated, debating whether or not either of those were good enough to warrant him getting up to make them. "How did everything go Over There?" Lincoln asked.

"Good, really good, I'm just heading back to our side now," Charlie told him. "Your team goes out tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, we're meeting here and then going to their Rhode Island."

"How do you like working with the Other Olivia?" Charlie asked.

"We've worked with her before," Lincoln pointed out, scraping the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. "She's still good at her job. But it is weird to work with a version of Liv who is just so... I don't know, it's hard to describe."

"Serious?" Charlie offered.

"Kind of, though Liv can be serious too, and Olivia can crack a joke every once in a while. She's just different. Doesn't quite have the intensity Liv does."

Charlie nodded. "It's odd, working with your alternate."

Lincoln grabbed a piece of bread and pressed it into the bowl, soaking up the last of the soup. "I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to him. Is he as nerdy as he looks?"

"No," Charlie said. "Well, he might be, but we haven't compared our universes Star Wars's yet."

Lincoln nodded and ate the bread, now looking forward to starting that conversation on the way to Rhode Island the next day. He wasn't sure if Olivia had seen the movies on her side, but there had to be someone who was familiar with them.

"He's also, uh... did you know he's dating a guy?" Charlie continued, bringing Lincoln's mind back from Star Wars and back to his double.

Lincoln's eyebrows rose at that. "I didn't." He took his bowl over to the sink and started washing it.

"Doesn't that... disprove the argument that homosexuality is caused by genetics, since you two are supposed to be the same except for different choices that you made?"

"That's not necessarily true," Lincoln said, putting the now clean bowl away before leaning against the counter and looking down at Charlie. "The universes are different because of choices, but it could have been other people's choices that affected him. The other Olivia didn't choose to be more serious, it was the choices other people made during her childhood that made her that way. The other Lincoln's parents may have decided to conceive him on another night, so his genetics are just slightly different. Like the two Astrids, who look the same but have genetics different enough for one to have Asperger's and for one to not.

"But, none of that applies here," Lincoln continued. "Because, Charlie, I'm bi. You've only known me while I've been in love with Liv."

And with that, Lincoln headed out of the break room to go back to work. Charlie dropped his feet to the floor and practically ran after him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Charlie said, catching up. "You just- finally- admitted you're in love with Liv."

"I did," Lincoln said, reaching his desk and grabbing a file to look through.

"She knows?"

"She does," Lincoln told him. "I told her when she was giving birth to Henry."

"You confessed your love to a woman during labor?" Charlie took note of that to harass Lincoln about later. "What was her reaction? How did she not kill you? Did she kill you?"

"She was a bit distracted at the time, having a son and all, but we talked about it later," Lincoln put the file down and eyed Charlie. "We've actually been dating for a while. I should fire you for not noticing, it really shows your lacks of investigative skills."

* * *

><p>This popped into my head when I saw someone say that the Lincoln Lee on our side absolutely has to be gay. It might end up being the only part that is not PO, but it fits in with some of the things I want to do later.  
>And, marifreica, thank you for my first ever review!<p> 


	5. Dishes

"Ella, honey, hurry up and bring your plate to the kitchen. I want to wash it before I go," Olivia told her niece, who was playing with her last few bites of tortellini instead of eating them.

"You don't have to do the dishes, Liv," Rachel said while putting a glass in the sink. "Just go and let me take care of them."

"No, I'll do them, really," Olivia said. She was quietly disappointed when Rachel shrugged and went to the living room instead of insisting further.

"Are you going to Uncle Peter's?" Ella asked, bringing her plate over. Olivia nodded and wondered when Peter had become 'Uncle Peter'. Before he had been just Peter, like Astrid was just Astrid. "I wish Mom let me have as many sleepovers with my friends as you have with yours," Ella said, watching Olivia wash her plate.

"Maybe, if you and your friends did your homework and went to sleep instead of talking all night, you could have more sleepovers," Olivia said, giving her niece a smile. "But I also think your friends' parents would miss them if they spent every night away from home, just like your mom would miss you."

"Is that why you spend more nights at Peter's than he does here?" Ella asked. "Because Uncle Walter would miss him?"

"Yes," Olivia said, thinking it was partially the truth, though the possibility of being walked in on by a 7 year-old had more to do with it.

Peter and Olivia had not missed a night together since his return to non-existence. Olivia knew that Ella would ask questions eventually and was quite pleased that she innocently assumed they were having friendly sleepovers. Unless her calling him 'Uncle Peter' was a sign that the little girl knew more than she let on. Hopefully she wasn't catching on too much, Olivia really didn't want Rachel to yell at her for having to have the birds and the bees talk earlier than she planned.

Though, Olivia mused, it would be a lot easier to answer Ella's questions than to find the answers to the questions Peter and her were still asking themselves. By now she had resigned herself to the fact that they would never know exactly where Peter was when he didn't exist. Or how he had learned of his son when he was there. Peter had a harder time letting it go and brought it up often until Olivia threatened to erase him again if he didn't shut up and be happy with existing. From that point on, he kept any new theories he thought of to himself.

Olivia finished the dishes, gave Ella a kiss on the forehead, said goodbye to Rachel, and headed over to her boyfriend's house, anxious to see him for the first time that day. It had been his team's turn to journey to the soft spots and she had spent the day at the Federal Building.

She let herself into the Bishops' front door and was about to call out when Peter appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He held a finger up to his lips and then pointed a thumb toward the living room. Olivia glanced at the couch as she walked by to follow Peter into the kitchen and saw Walter fast asleep, holding a milkshake in his hand.

"I don't know how you two do it," Olivia said softly as she entered the kitchen.

"Do what?" Peter asked, also in a hushed voice. He was cleaning the blender of milkshake remains.

"Fall asleep with drinks in your hands. I've seen both of you do it and I have yet to see either of you spill." Peter shrugged and Olivia peeked back into the living room. "You'd think his hand being cold would keep him up."

Peter dried off the blender and thought back to when Walter had been making the milkshake. "I'm fairly certain he didn't add any drugs that could have knocked him out to the shake. If he did, we may have a problem. I already finished mine." He put the blender away and quietly went to take the half-full glass out of Walter's hand, just in case.

When that was done, Peter properly greeted Olivia with a kiss and offered her some ice cream, which she declined. She didn't decline the liquor he pulled out next. "Thank you," she said, quite sincere. She needed the drink after the day of worry she had had. "How did it go with the soft spots?"

"The soft spots of upstate New York are no more," he said proudly as he poured the whiskey. "And Astrid is surprisingly intimidating when she has a gun."

"You better watch out," Olivia warned. "I've been to the firing range with her and she's a really good shot."

"Why didn't you tell me this before all those times I sent her out to get Philly cheese steak sandwiches?" Peter asked in mock-terror. Olivia kissed his cheek and patted his head to reassure him, taking her drink from the counter with her other hand as she did so. Peter continued their quiet conversation as he took his own glass. "How was dinner with Rachel and Ella?"

"Good," Olivia told him, leaning against the counter and sipping her whiskey. "Ella is jealous of us getting to have sleepovers all the time."

"Ah, but we do our work before we play," Peter smiled, leaning into the bit of counter next to her and fiddling with the fingers on Olivia's free hand. "And we do sleep. Sometimes."

"Sometimes," she agreed. She looked down and watched his fingers play with her own. "I have something to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"What," Olivia began, looking back up at his face, "do you think about me moving in?"

"You want to?" Peter asked, surprised.

Olivia saw his surprise and immediately tried to explain her mindset. "I wouldn't mind it. I know it seems soon, but we spend every night together anyway. We wouldn't have to pick up or drop off each other all the time, so we'd get to work and back home quicker. And I could give my apartment to Rachel and Ella, it's small for the three of us-"

"Olivia," Peter stopped her and pressed his lips to her temple. "I don't need convincing. I would like you to move in. I just didn't think you'd want to move in with a guy who lives with his formerly institutionalized father."

As if on cue, they heard loud sucking sounds from the living room. Walter must have woken up and finished his milkshake.

Olivia put her glass down so she could lean into Peter, wrap her arms around him, and kiss his lips before telling him "Walter might be the main reason I want to move in. He can be quite kind, and makes milkshakes! What more could a girl want?"

Peter saw the mirth in her eyes, but answered seriously. "A girl might mind when the milkshakes are made- quite loudly- at four in the morning. And she might mind when the dishes from the milkshake making are left on the counter, sometimes with unknown substances on them, depending on if Walter was in the mood for an experimental milkshake or not."

Olivia leaned her head onto his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "A girl might not mind that. Too much."

"Not too much?" Peter said. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"I won't complain like you do," Olivia told him. "I'm not as crabby as you are."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"What about the time when-"

"Peter! Peter, come here!" Peter and Olivia put their glasses down and rushed to the living room at the sound of Walter's voice. When he saw them he motioned towards the television, where the President was about to address the nation.

"They're really going to do it then," Peter said. "They're going to go public."

Walter turned up the volume and the three of them sat on the couch together, watching the President tell the world about the existence of and 'recent' contact with another universe.

* * *

><p>AN: From now on will be where the 'Moments' part of the title comes in. I'll be skipping around to different events, all in chronological order but with varying amounts of time between them. I have a vague idea of the timeline, but I won't be too specific. A lot of it will be what I wish would happen to the characters, but know will never happen on the show. Other parts I may not wish for, but they've been in my head for a while and I gotta get them out. I hope you enjoy them, and thanks for reading and reviewing!<p> 


	6. Double Decker

AN: There are some more adult subjects in this chapter. I think the T rating still works since it's just discussed and I sure hope teens talk about sex (especially the safe kind), but I am still getting to know my way around the site. If anyone thinks I should change the rating to M, please tell me. I do not intend to offend, only to entertain (and possibly, make giggle).

* * *

><p>Peter sat at what had come to be his desk in the Bridge, looking over some paperwork. Olivia walked up and placed a hand on his back, getting his attention.<p>

"You can get to that tomorrow, you know," she said. "Broyles just confirmed we have the day off. He also ordered me to stop double-checking with him when we get free days."

"Astrid and Lincoln can handle anything that comes up," Peter said, repeating what he had heard from Broles several times before. It was hard to get used to. He put it down the files and looked Olivia over. "You ready?"

She nodded her head once, determined. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

They stoically made their way out of the Bridge and into the car they had rented for the occasion. After one stop at a city apartment to collect their sole responsibility for the day, they advanced to the highway.

Peter fidgeted in the passenger seat, wishing he had something to do to calm his nerves. "You sure you want to drive?" he asked Olivia.

"The name on the rental is Olivia Dunham," she told him. "It would be too complicated to give them your name, even now that everyone knows about the alternate universe. And I've spent more time here than you have, so I know my way around."

"It's just..." Peter looked into the backseat, at the cause of his nervousness. "What if he cries?"

"Then you try and cheer him up." Olivia looked at the rear view mirror to see Henry, their charge, happily playing with the blue plastic rattle they had brought him. "Liv gave us a whole bag of toys you can use. And If he still won't stop we can pull over to see if he needs to be changed."

"I should have thought about this more," Peter admitted. "I don't have any experience with babies without their mothers around to make sure I don't drop them."

"We'll be fine. We use equipment that could end universes everyday, I'm sure we'll be able to handle a baby." Olivia smiled when she thought about how she used to be with kids. "I remember being so terrified when Rachel left Ella with me for the first time," she told him. "But look at her now! I didn't mess her up too bad."

Peter watched his son bring the rattle up to his mouth, feel it, and then shake it some more. The small pellets inside made a little noise, nothing too bothersome. Henry seemed quite content being with them, but Peter grew thoughtful.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing, having us be part of his life?"

"He's going to want to know his father, Peter."

"He's not lacking in father figures, though. You saw how things were at Liv's place, how Lincoln kissed him goodbye. He's already Mr. Dad. I'm just the boner donor."

Olivia was a bit taken aback by that last phrase, but wondered just what it was she was detecting in his voice. "Do you... want to stay here? In this universe, with Henry?"

"What? No." Peter looked away from his son and at her. He had not expected her thoughts to go in that direction. "Olivia, my home is with you. As much as I love Henry, it is possible for me to live without him. As long as I know that he is safe and happy, I'm okay. I absolutely want to continue having visits, but if I never got to see him in person again, I could handle it. He belongs with Liv, and I belong with you."

"I don't think I could handle having to live without you, either," Olivia admitted.

Peter smiled at the way she kept her eyes on the road while she said that, but then got serious again. "What I just said was awful, wasn't it? I'm sure other parents would be horrified by someone saying they were okay with being separated from their baby."

"It wasn't awful," Olivia said. "It was honest. And I don't think it means that you love your son less than other people do. You remembered him even when I brought you back from non-existence limbo, so it's clear that you love him a lot. You're just looking at things logically. Unlike some parents who really should stay away from their children, you're focusing on his needs more than your wants."

Peter turned back to his son, who was blissfully drooling on his rattle.

"I do worry about what he needs. I wonder if I am selfishly messing with his life by forcing myself into it. It's going to be confusing for him when he get older. How are we going to explain how he came to be?"

"A child could always use more people to love them. If it feels awkward being Henry's dad, you could tell him you're his uncle or something," Olivia offered, her habit of talking with her hands causing one to come off the steering wheel as she did. "But Peter, if we learn anything from Walter's mistakes, I'd think it would be that lying to kids does more harm than good."

"I love you and your reasonableness," Peter told her. He was positive he would continue to worry about damaging Henry, but this was one of the times when he could admit Olivia was probably right. "Are you nervous?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Kind of. I'm sure she's going to be perfectly lovely, but she'll probably hate me."

"No, she won't."

"She has reason to. Her husband is in jail because of me."

Peter shrugged, not having an argument against that. Olivia glanced over at him. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes," he admitted. "Other than the possible but improbable hatred of you, she believes that I visited her before. I have no idea what she believes happened. Hopefully you and Henry distract her from bringing up something I won't be able to respond to."

They sat in silence for a little while, both thinking about what they were about to face. Peter spoke up after a few minutes.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "Not everyone would journey to another universe, face the person who stole their life for two months, and spend time with the kid their boyfriend fathered when he was too dumb to notice he was with the wrong woman."

"So far, I'm glad I came. Henry is wonderful," she smiled at the baby in the rear view mirror. "And I can't keep hating Liv, now that she went against Walternate and argued on our side. It also doesn't hurt that she's moved on and is with Lincoln."

"You aren't going to leave me for our Lincoln Lee, are you? "

"No, he's dating Ben."

Peter obviously wasn't satisfied with her flippant answer, so she reached over and touched his knee, making eye contact before looking back at the road. "He's not an option. Even if he was single and into me, I don't think I could choose someone other than you."

Peter took her hand and brushed his lips against it, knowing those words were true for him as well. But he could see, from the way Olivia was working at her lip, that there was something else. "Okay, what aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing," Olivia said.

"No, it's something," Peter wasn't sure what emotion it was on her face. It wasn't something he had seen before in all the years they had known each other.

"Um..." Olivia kept her eyes on the road, more intent on not making eye contact than other before. "Lincoln and Ben may have made it clear that they were interested."

"Interested in what?"

"In having me over, for a... a..." Olivia couldn't bring herself to say it. Peter wasn't sure if he should be more shocked at what she was suggesting, or that there was something Olivia Dunham, FBI agent, was shy about.

"Wow," Peter finally got out. "When was this?"

"Last week," she replied, face getting red.

"I can't believe Lincoln!" Peter snarled, keeping his voice down so he didn't upset Henry. "They asked you when I existed, knowing full well that we're in a relationship!"

Olivia's face got even more red. "They actually wanted you to be involved, too. Whatever you were comfortable with, participating or watching..."

"Oh," Peter's anger diffused. He almost felt flattered.

"I should have told you sooner, full disclosure and everything," Olivia went on, rather quickly. "They were actually really nice about it. I got so flustered, and they were perfectly understanding."

"So you told them no?" Peter asked, grinning. Her reaction didn't disappoint.

"Of course!" she said, her voice higher and louder than usual. Henry looked at her curiously from the back seat.

"Well well well," Peter said, grinning even wider. "The brave Olivia Dunham gets shy over the simple topic of group sex."

"Oh, shut up," Olivia took a breath. "It's just something I would never even think of. Their asking me really took me off guard, and I was so embarrassed. And now, having to tell you..."

"It's okay," Peter told her. "It's a normal reaction."

Olivia sighed, glad that she had finally told him. He didn't seem to be angry with Lincoln and understood how it had made her uncomfortable. And then she got around to what she had been secretly wondering for the past week. "Have you ever...?"

"No," he answered.

"Full disclosure," Olivia repeated.

"Honestly, I haven't," he said. "When I was single I may have had the occasional fantasy where two girls invited me to join them, but it was never a reality. Nor do I want it to be a reality now."

"You'd tell me if you did?"

"Of course, full disclosure. Just like you would tell me if you wanted to hook up with Lincoln and Ben."

"I don't," Olivia repeated. "The other Olivia might, though. Maybe I should suggest Lincoln and Ben talk to her and her Lincoln."

"Wait, you're all shy about group sex but are okay with alternates sleeping together?" Peter asked, not sure if he was okay with it. Would it be incest or masturbation? Then he had another, more disturbing thought. "Have you thought about that?"

Shock flitted across Olivia's face as she got his meaning. "No. Oh god, that is disturbing." She shook her head, as if that would get rid of the images.

And Peter was disgusted, surprising himself He was a straight man who had first-hand experience with both Olivias. It would be expected that he would gleefully imagine the two of them together, or with him at the same time. But he couldn't. There were things that were for Olivia now, and Olivia alone.

"I only want you to have nice, normal sex with me," he said, unprompted. "We can use handcuffs when... special occasions arise."

"Walter showed me a swing he wanted to buy us off the Internet," Olivia told him. "We could try that."

Peter chuckled. "Where would we even put it?"

Olivia shrugged. "The porch?"

Before Peter could build on the joke, Olivia pointed to an exit sign up ahead. "We're almost there."

"Good," Peter looked at Henry. "I'm glad he didn't cry."

"He probably likes car rides," Olivia said. She switched lanes quickly, hoping to get past a double decker car before their exit. Unfortunately, as soon as she got into the passing lane she could see that there was a smaller car in front of the double decker, and she had to slow down and go behind it again to make their exit.

"Okay, Peter, full disclosure," she said with a bit of venom. "I hate these damn double decker cars. The next time we come out here, we're calling Henry's namesake and taking a cab. I owe him a lot of business anyway."

Peter chuckled again, watching her concentrate as they got off the highway and merged onto a commercial street. After turning off that street and going a mile down several picturesque suburban roads, they arrived at their destination.

"Hey, Olivia," Peter said to get her attention as he freed Henry's carrier from the car.

"Yeah?" she asked, coming over to his side of the car with the baby bag around her shoulder.

Peter straightened up and pulled the carrier out. "Don't talk about your kinky threesomes in front of my mother."

Olivia punched his baby-free arm.


	7. Storage

Twenty seconds after they rang the doorbell, Elizabeth answered the door. She looked at the three of them in and smiled brightly.

"Hi," Peter said.

"Hello," she replied and gave him a quick hug. Next she bent down, touched Henry's cheek and whispered "Hi" to him. Then she turned to Olivia.

"You must be Olivia," she gave her a hug just as she had Peter. "My son has told me a lot about you. Come on in, I'm just finishing making lunch."

Olivia looked at Peter, who simply shrugged before following his mother into the house. Elizabeth led them into the kitchen, where Peter was pleased to see a plate of bacon.

"I thought we could have B.L.T.s," Elizabeth explained. "It's simple, but-"

"It's great," Peter finished for her. He placed Henry's carrier on top of the kitchen island so they could all see him while they ate. Olivia made sure to grab a colorful toy worm out of the bag before she put it down against the wall. She handed it to him and he squeezed the soft round tail. Henry seemed quite pleased by his new position and toy, as he kicked his feet and babbled.

Elizabeth brought over their sandwiches and placed them on the island in front of Henry. "Please, sit," she said. She made a short trip back to the counter and then joined them with her own plate and a vegetable tray. Soon the three of them were all munching on sandwiches and carrots.

"There is some leftover bacon on the counter," Elizabeth told Peter when she saw just how quickly he was eating. He smiled in thanks, but his mouth was too full to say much. "You can have some more too, if you like," Elizabeth said to Olivia. "Are you are a big bacon fan as well?"

"I love bacon, but probably not as much as Peter does," Olivia told her. "The sandwich is wonderful, I love how you toasted the bread."

"Peter's father used to tell me that I should start selling them."

And so they had reached the first awkward topic. Peter and Olivia exchanged a quick look, neither knowing exactly what to say.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said after a few seconds. "About your husband."

"Oh no, dear, you are the last person who should be sorry," Elizabeth told her quite genuinely. "He stopped being the man I feel for long ago. If he did what he's been accused of, then he should be convicted."

"It's going to be a complicated trial," Olivia said.

"You're quite brave to have agreed to testify," Elizabeth told her, briefly placing a hand on her elbow.

Peter nodded in agreement. "I'm sure they'll decide the Geneva Conventions apply to inter-universal prisoners as well, but we don't know if his political clout will help get him off."

"I think he's fallen out of favor with just about everyone, especially the President," Elizabeth reassured them. "Otherwise someone would have posted bail for him."

All three of the adults were grateful that no one had, though none of them said it out loud. Henry, however, did seem to have a problem, though it most likely had nothing to do with Walternate's upcoming trial or his inability to visit. His cries filled the air. Olivia immediately stood and took him out of the carrier.

"I think he needs to be changed." She grabbed the baby bag and pulled out the changing mat and other equipment. "Elizabeth," she said, hoping the older woman wanted to be called by her first name, "Is there a certain place you want me to change him, or is the floor in the living room okay?"

"Actually, I have something set up, if you'd follow me," Elizabeth led her down a hall that ended in a closed door. Elizabeth opened it and Olivia saw an old white crib, changing table, and rocking chair in a small, blue room. "When I heard about Henry I had everything from when Peter was a baby taken out of storage, cleaned, and set up here," Elizabeth explained. "I could never bear to get rid of it."

"Thank you," Olivia said, not sure how to acknowledge that confession. "I'm sure Henry will get good use out of it."

Elizabeth smiled at that and left Olivia to wrestle with the wriggling baby and his onesie. Elizabeth returned to the kitchen to find Peter eating the extra bacon.

"I like her," she told him.

"I do too," he said around a mouthful.

Elizabeth sat back down and picked up her sandwich but didn't take a bite out of it yet. "Do you plan on marrying her?"

"Mom, she just moved in with me," Peter said, the situation pulling the M-word out of his mouth without him thinking about it. "We're going to see if we can handle that before we think about taking things further."

"Tell me when you do," was all Elizabeth said before eating the last of her sandwich.

Olivia soon appeared in the doorway holding Henry. He seemed a bit better, but still fussy.

"I think it's time for his lunch," Olivia said.

"Oh, right," said Peter, checking his watch. He bent down to grab a bottle from the baby bag.

"Would you mind if I fed him?" Elizabeth asked. Both Peter and Olivia shook their heads and Elizabeth took her grandson and his bottle. She carried him into the living room so she could sit comfortably on the couch while feeding him.

Henry happily reached for the bottle and started holding it for himself. "Oh wow, he's a strong boy. Aren't you, little Henry?" Peter and Olivia watched as she marvelled over him. She seemed to know just when to adjust the bottle and when to burp him.

"Has he rolled over yet?" she asked after a few moments.

"Yes," Peter told her. "Liv told us he rolled over all by himself last week."

"We'll have to see him do that then, after he finishes," Elizabeth said.

"He might need a nap first," Olivia said. "He looks a little sleepy to me."

"You're right," Elizabeth said,looking at the droop in Henry's eyes. "After nap time then. Do you have a lot of experience with children?"

"My sister has a little girl," Olivia told her. "She'll be 8 soon, but I remember her younger days well."

They continued to watch Henry eat, Elizabeth occasionally asking Olivia questions about herself. By the time Henry was done and ready for nap time, Olivia had told her quite a lot about her family, the different places she had lived in as a child, and how she came to be an agent. Peter took Henry to put him down while Olivia told his mother about the events that led to their meeting in Iraq.

"Peter, do you remember where I had you put the box of your childhood things, the last time you were here?" Elizabeth asked him when he came back into the room.

"I don't, actually," Peter said, hoping she wouldn't question his memory loss further.

"That's alright," said Elizabeth. "I don't need the whole box carried out anyway, so I can get it myself."

She left the room and Peter took the spot on the couch she had vacated, next to Olivia.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I like her," she told him. "I didn't expect her to be so welcoming."

"I think she likes you too."

Elizabeth returned shortly, holding something that looked like a book.

"The last time Peter visited me I showed him some things from his childhood," she informed Olivia. "But there was something I didn't let him see. I think it's yours."

"Mine?" Olivia asked, confused. Elizabeth handed her the book, which was really a sketchpad. The cover had O-L-I-V-I-A spelled in colorful letters.

"When Peter was taken," Elizabeth told them, sitting on the armchair next to the couch and clasping her hands together, "Walter and I went over all the possible ways that a man could have fooled me. How he could have looked and sounded so much like my husband that I believed he was him, and trusted him with my son. It wasn't until a little girl appeared to him in Jacksonville, talking about parallel universes and holding this sketch book, that we knew where Peter was."

Olivia opened the book. She was greeted by pictures of children, buildings, and an angry, red-faced man. Some of the pages had been ripped from the wire binding, but they were still there. Elizabeth could tell by the mixture of awe and sadness on her face that the book was indeed hers.

"When Peter told me about you, I thought it must have been a coincidence," Elizabeth told her. "But how many little girls named Olivia could have been on the army base in Jacksonville at that time?"

"It was me," Olivia said. "I don't remember it, but it must have been." She looked up and made eye contact with Elizabeth. "Thank you for this. We moved around a lot after Jacksonville, so I really don't have much from my childhood."

Elizabeth smiled and Olivia continued going through the book, Peter looking at it from her side. When she came to the last picture Olivia breathed out "Oh my god!" and her hands flew to her face. Peter took the book and examined the picture: two children, holding hands, their smiles more evident than the ones in all the other drawings. One girl with blond hair, one boy with brown hair, four white tulips, and their names underneath.

"That's me," Peter said at last.

"That's how we knew where you were," Elizabeth repeated.

"There weren't any Peters in the Jacksonville trials, were there?" Peter asked Olivia.

She shook her head. "I don't think I knew any Peters until I got to high school. And even then, he had red hair."

"You can't remember it?" Elizabeth asked.

They looked at each other and both shook their heads. "I've been waiting for Walter to admit he knows how to block or erase memories somehow," Olivia said. "We have to ask him if there ever was a time we could have met."

Elizabeth insisted that Olivia keep the sketch pad, but first scanned the drawing of the two them so she could look at it when she wanted. They spent the rest of the day talking and playing with Henry, until it got close to the time when Lincoln and Liv would be coming home from their day trip and wanting to see their son. Elizabeth gave them both tight hugs and gave Henry a kiss goodbye.

"We're going to be too busy to visit every week," Olivia said to Peter as they were getting Henry into the car. "But we should try and make it once or twice a month."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks again for the reviews! I love you guys.<p> 


	8. Cookies

"You know, Liv, you could have let yourself in," Rachel told her older sister as she opened the door. "I knew you were coming, and this is still your place, technically."

"I feel better when people announce themselves," Olivia retorted, limping in. Rachel noticed the limp, as well as the bruises on her face and knuckles.

"Olivia, what happened?"

"It was nothing, really," Olivia said. "Just a few bruises. But it's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Sit down," Rachel ordered. Olivia obediently limped over to the couch and took a seat. "Do you want anything to eat or drink? I made cookies for a bake sale at Ella's school and planned on stealing some."

"You bake?" Olivia asked, frightened at what her sister could have come up with.

"Well, I put some pre-made Pillsbury dough on a pan and stuck it in the oven," Rachel said. "I didn't even burn them this time!"

Olivia smiled. "Okay, I'll have some."

"Milk?"

"Yes, please. I can't remember the last time I had milk and cookies."

"Really, even living with Walter?"

"I don't eat anything he bakes," Olivia told her. "I get drug-tested at work."

Rachel laughed and handed her a glass of milk, putting the cookies on the coffee table and then sitting down herself. "I can assure you that there are no drugs in these cookies. For some reason the other moms don't like it when I bring those cookies in."

Olivia smiled, dipped a cookie in the milk, and bit it. She didn't wince while she chewed, but it took a lot of effort.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're here in the middle of the day? And why you made sure Ella was at school?"

"We had a talk at work," Olivia said. "I got these bruises because I was targeted, and we've decided that it would be best for you to know what is going on."

Rachel didn't speak and waited for Olivia to continue, looking at her intently. The enormity of the situation was not lost on her. She had long ago stopped being curious about her sister's job, after Olivia uttered something along the lines of "the more I know, the more I don't want to know". Which wasn't really true in Olivia's case, she had always needed answers, whether it was in school or in the FBI. But Rachel preferred to turn a blind eye to the issues of the world so she could enjoy her own little corner of it. It helped her stay sane, happy, and positive.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot be repeated, for the safety of many," Olivia said. Rachel nodded her understanding. "I take it you know about the parallel universe?"

"Of course," Rachel said. "It's the only thing any one has talked about for months."

"There's more to the story than what the public was told," Olivia disclosed. "We didn't just discover the other universe and make contact. We were actually at war with the other universe since 1985."

Rachel stared at Olivia like she had grown a second or third head.

"Walter and his partner, William Bell, were the first to develop a way to see the Other Side. And when Walter's son Peter died, he made a doorway to the Other Side and took his son's alternate."

Rachel's jaw dropped and she started sputtering. "Peter was the cause of the war? Was he why you were targeted? Olivia, I was happy that you two got together but if he's putting you in danger-"

"Peter is not the reason I was attacked," Olivia cut her off, raising a hand to stop her. "Trust me, it's better for both worlds if we're together."

"Then why? We're trading with them and everyone seems to be benefiting, why would they attack you?"

"They didn't," Olivia said, now clasping both her hands in her lap. "When Walter learned of the other universe, he explored all the different ways that we could travel there. He even treated children with a drug that could give them the ability to cross over. I was one of those children."

Rachel was stunned by this news as well, more so that all the other things Olivia had revealed. There were fewer visible signs of her shock, but Olivia knew the silence meant that her brain was racing and that the questions would come.

"Before the Bridge between worlds was created, my job was to investigate cases that involved theoretical science. It still is, but now we have the added responsibility of making sure that the universes stay balanced. But, of course, there are still men like Walter, who meddle with the laws of nature and think that no harm will come of it."

"And what do they do?" Rachel asked.

"Well, now everyone wants to cash in on the other universe," Olivia said. "They want to find their own way to the Other Side, so they can steal technology and smuggle goods. They can make a killing that way. I was jumped by two men, one who used to be a scientist at Massive Dynamic and knew that I have the ability to cross to the Other Side. The other was hired muscle."

"What happened to them?"

"They're dead," Olivia said simply, trying not to think about how that happened, trying not to think about the fact that they didn't just jump her- they caught her. She tried not to think about how they strapped her down in front of a set of monitors, so she could watch her fellow agents fall into a trap. She tried not to think about the moment the fear for her own life was replaced was replaced by something far worse- the fear for Peter's. Dr. Briant had hoped that he could use that unique combination of fear and love to activate Olivia's ability to cross over. Unfortunately for him, it was not that ability which he activated. Olivia tried not to think about it.

When Olivia stopped trying not to think about things, she became aware that Rachel was hugging her. She was glad to see that she hadn't started crying again. She didn't want her little sister to see that.

Rachel pulled back after a few moments, but kept her arms on Olivia's. "So you're concerned that other people will come after you, so they can capitalize on your ability?"

"That's part of my concern," Olivia said. "There are only a few people who know about my ability. Members of Fringe Division and some select scientists at Massive Dynamic. We don't know if the man who came after me told anyone else, but so far none of his contacts that we've question seem to be aware."

"So, there's probably nothing to worry about?"

"Well, no. I'm sure someone else who can't be trusted will find out eventually. And we can't be sure that some of the people on the Other Side have given up on the war," Olivia told her. "You should take simple precautions. We should sell this place, since my name is on the lease. If you feel better changing your name from Dunham, I would support you. It's all precautionary, but I want to make sure you're safe. Most people probably wouldn't even think about coming after you guys since I try not to mention you at work and I have Peter as my contact, but you never know."

"I'll get a new place, but it's starting to sound like you're worrying too much, Liv," Rachel told her, rubbing her arms soothingly.

"There's more," Olivia said. "What I was treated with as a children gave me more abilities than just crossing between universes."

"Are you Spiderman?"

"No," Olivia said. "_I_ don't have any spiders in me. But these abilities can be dangerous, and I don't know how to control them yet. I don't think I should be around you and Ella."

"Have you ever hurt anyone with your abilities?"

"Only the men who attacked me."

"Then no."

"No?"

"Olivia, I let you carry a gun around my child. I know you'd never shoot an innocent person, and I don't see how this is any different."

"I almost shot Peter once," Olivia admitted.

"I'm sure he deserved it."

"No, he didn't. We were on an investigation and I thought I heard breathing in the walls. When the floor creaked under Peter's feet, I fired at him. We were lucky I missed by an inch."

"Do you hear breathing in the walls here?" Rachel asked.

"No."

"Then I still think it's fine for you to be around Ella and me. I'm sure there were extenuating circumstances when you almost shot Peter. If you're ever on edge and feel like shooting someone or using whatever abilities you have, then don't come around. But don't cut yourself out of our lives."

"There's no knowing what could trigger it. I really think you should reconsider."

"Olivia, what are you going to do? Break up with Peter, quit your job, become a recluse? You don't have it in you to hurt someone who doesn't deserve it, even if you do have a crazy drug in your system."

Olivia thought about the time her mind killed off both Peter and Walter, but she didn't know how to explain that. Also, Rachel was on a roll.

"You're more cautious than I am with Ella, you don't even take her on roller coasters. Not to mention you're practically her second parent, and Peter is her only father figure now that things have gotten even worse with Greg. You suddenly disappearing from her life is sure to cause damage. It's like saying 'Oh, you have a gunshot wound? Let me walk you to the hospital, since I might crash if I drive a car!'

"Not to mention, Olivia, you are the only family I have. You're not getting rid of me that easily. You are going to eat cookies, finish your milk, and stay here until Ella gets home from school. Call your boss if you have to."

Olivia was taken aback. She was the one who always took care of Rachel and had never seen this assertive side of her. "I don't," Olivia admitted. "Have to call my boss. I was told to tell you, relax, and then work on controlling my abilities with Walter tomorrow."

"Good," Rachel said. "Now eat those cookies."

Olivia ate two before speaking again. "Why are you so sure I won't hurt Ella?"

"Because, Olivia, I know you. Whenever life gets tough, you pull back and won't let me in," Rachel told her. "Right now you're freaked out about what you did to those guys, and you're just using it as an excuse."

Olivia saw the truth in that. It was both her protective instincts and her need to never be a burden. When did her sister become so perceptive?

After a while, Rachel spoke. "Hey, Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I blame you for the rise in coffee prices?"

Olivia smiled. "Don't worry, the prices will go back down when the Other Side completely recovers from the blight."

"What's the blight?"

Olivia told her sister all about the other universe (and how there would not be tourism, no matter how much money Oprah offered) until Ella came home from school. By that point, Olivia had to stay to help her niece bake more cookies.


	9. First Move

WARNING: Extreme fluff.

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><p>Peter and Olivia laid in their bed. They were snuggling, if you can believe that two well-worn, world-weary Fringe Agents could snuggle. But they each had one arm under the other's body and one hand free to roam. Their legs were tangled, their foreheads were touching, and someone who didn't know them would define it as such. And Olivia, for the moment, couldn't care less about the semantics. There was no case on her mind, Walter wasn't snoring too loudly, and they were both healthy. It was a rare occurance, and one that she wanted more of.<p>

"Do you think about getting married?" she asked after a few minutes of enjoyable silence.

Peter sighed, frowned and promptly rolled away from her. Olivia felt cold air invade the space he had vacated and something she would not admit to be panic invade her insides. If she had known that just talking about it would upset him, she would never have brought it up. He must be thinking that she was too clingy. It was all the hand-holding and other ways she kept tabs on him. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't help it. She had finally started to relax after his return from non-existence and then he had almost gotten killed by that damn scientist! How could she not reassure herself every so often with a casual touch, or, when they were apart, a call? She should have known that bringing up marriage would convince him it was time to take a breather. How could she have been so stupid?

Olivia was not wrong about Peter being upset. He was even grumbling as he reached to his nightstand. She was wrong, however, about why he was upset. Instead of grabbing his phone and keys to leave, his hand went to the bottom drawer. He pulled out a small box, rolled back over, and unhappily put it in Olivia's hand.

Olivia's dark thoughts left her, but they weren't replaced by anything. Her mind was blank with shock as she opened the box to see a simple yet elegant diamond ring.

"Um..." she said. She looked back and forth between Peter's expectant-yet-somehow-annoyed face and the ring several times before she finally formed words. "I was asking more in a 'Do you ever think about it' kind of way."

"Oh," said Peter. His face went from expectant-yet-annoyed to crestfallen.

His mood lifted though, when he went to take the ring back and Olivia moved it away from his grasp. She looked at his face one more time and then studied the ring intently. The diamond was clear and oval in a platinum setting. Beautiful, but not ostentatious. She removed it from the box and turned it over in her fingers.

"Elizabeth gave it to me last month," Peter told her quietly. "I guess it was her grandmother's. I thought it would be fitting for you to have something from the Other Side, like me, but which can only be associated with the side of the family that I acknowledge."

Olivia nodded, but still did not look at him. "So, I guess you do. Want to get married."

"Yeah."

She slid the ring onto her finger.

"Is that a yes?" he asked. Olivia gave him a quick, terse nod.

Peter couldn't control his grin. He leaned over and kissed her, reaching to take her left hand with his own. She responded to the sweet, light kiss, but then he pulled back. Fiddling with the ring now on his fiancee's finger, he asked, "Does this mean I get credit for making the first move, for once?"

She smiled, looking at his grin. "Okay."

"Can I make a cheesy speech?"

"No."

"Oh come on, don't you want to tell people about my incredibly romantic proposal?"

"I'm much more comfortable saying it happened like this," she told him firmly.

"Please?" he asked, putting on a puppy-dog face.

"Fine," Olivia grumbled, flashing her hands in a _I give up!_ manner. Peter happily hoisted himself onto his elbows and caught one of her hands as she moved them. He held it in both of his, looking down at her. He maintained eye contact through his whole speech to prove his sincerity, ignoring her when she rolled her own.

"Olivia Dunham," he started. "Before I met you, I was a bitter man. Life had not treated me well, to say the least. I didn't think there was any use in trying to make the world a better place. I thought the best way to get through was to take advantage of others before they took advantage of me, to try and enjoy conning, gambling, and moving on before anyone got close."

Olivia felt like an idiot for rolling her eyes. They had talked about their pasts and had a full disclosure agreement, but it was rare for either of them to open up like this. To talk about feelings beyond that common three-word phrase.

"And then I met you. I saw you throw yourself off of buildings and chase after criminals, all for something I wouldn't have said I believed in. I've seen you get knocked down time and time again, and you still haven't let it change you, still haven't lost your love for the world. And I love you for it, for all of it, for showing me that there are good, passionate people in this world. You stayed by me even when I hurt you, you forgave Walter, you're amazing with Henry- I could on about how absolutely wonderful you are, but I'll stop so you don't realize how little I deserve you.

"Just know, that, despite all the abhorrent things we have witnessed, these past few years have been the happiest of my life, and living with you has been even better. You said before that I belong with you, and I am honored that you want to make it official, because you were right."

Olivia pressed her free hand against her eyes. They felt oddly prickly. "That was a good speech," she said. "Now I know I can only disappoint you."

"That's not possible," Peter told her, taking the hand he still held and pressing his lips to it.

"I should say something as well," she proclaimed, her voice unusually raspy.

"Whatever you want," Peter said. "You're in this relationship for some reason."

Olivia situated herself so that she mirrored Peter, this time both of her hands holding his on the mattress between them. Her eyes levelled with his, but she occasionally looked down at their hands and the ring.

"I have never been good at love when in a relationship..." she started, but then stopped and dropped his hands. "Okay, I can't do this."

It was Peter's turn to feel something he might admit to be panic. "What?"

"This position makes me feel like I'm in an overly dramatic romance."

Olivia laid back down, bringing Peter with her by cupping his grinning face with one hand. In this postion it could just be some sincere pillow talk. Some of the nerves she felt at opening up left her and she tried to be just as honest as he had been.

"In my past relationships, it would take a while for the feelings to grow to the point where I could admit them to myself, and it was even longer before I could admit it to the other person. And when you came along. . . well, when we first met your attitude seemed to confirm the impression I had while reading your file: that you're a pain in the ass."

"This is starting off well," Peter grumbled. Olivia closed the small space between their faces to press her lips against his nose for a second. She pulled back and smiled.

"But then you stayed," she continued. "You complained and made a lot of comments, but you stayed. And you weren't the arrogant, chauvinistic, reckless criminal asshole I expected you to be. You cared for people and put yourself in danger to save others as often as I did, even when I told you to stay in the car. You were surprisingly respective, protective but not pushy, you were more patient with Walter than a lot of people would have been. And you had some great card tricks. It was so easy to fall in love with you I didn't even notice I had until one moment I thought I would lose you and I realized I couldn't. You're the most important person in my life, the one I trust, the one I depend on. And yes, you belong with me, because I can't live without you."

She kissed him deeply, and when it ended the each had arms under the other once more. They were, however, more tightly pressed together than when they were originally snuggling. Olivia's head was now in the crook of Peter's neck and quite a lot of their torsos were touching.

"I bet you didn't know I could be cheesy, too," she said, smiling into his upper chest.

Peter pressed his lips to her brow. "You've had your share of heartfelt declarations before, always beating me to make the first move. It goes well with your gun."

"You won tonight," Olivia whispered. They laid in silence for a while. The speeches had kept them up past their usual bed time, but neither really wanted to sleep. Peter could tell by her breathing that Olivia was awake, but when he spoke he did so quietly.

"Hey, Livia?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you jealous when I called Rachel?" he asked. Olivia didn't answer right away, and while it could have been because she was trying to remember, Peter decided to add, "Full disclosure."

"Yes," she responded at last. She could feel his grin, even though his face was resting on his own arm above her.

"I knew I liked you then," he told her. "I found you attractive and cared for you before, but after your first abduction I realized there was more to it than you being a hot coworker. I didn't think you were interested in me though, so after a while I called Rachel to see your reaction. Not that I didn't enjoy talking with her, but I would have called her cell phone if I wanted to hook up."

Olivia had never expected that motive behind the call. At the time she had been able to convince herself that she wasn't jealous, that any and all uneasiness was due to the possibilities of the relationship coming to a dismal end. She used that same reasoning to explain away her pleasure at hearing nothing else about the two of them. "Why didn't you do anything when you knew I was jealous?"

"We found out about the Cortexiphan shortly thereafter. Then you were in that accident, then Charlie was killed, and a million other Fringe events made me wanting a date seem abysmally unimportant in comparison. Until that night after Jacksonville. Then I was sure you weren't interested."

"I was," she said, feeling the need to make that clear again. "I hadn't realized just how much I needed you, but I was interested. I wish I had acted on it before I saw the glimmer, then maybe things would have gone differently."

"Or maybe things were supposed to go the way they did."

Olivia lifted her head from her chest to look at his face. "That doesn't sound like the cynical atheist I fell for."

"Some chick brought me back from existence," he explained. "Since then it's been kinda hard for me to believe in nothingness. That's not a turn off, is it?"

"It might be," Olivia told him, trying to give him a serious look and pulling further away from him.

Peter pulled her back, his mouth going to her neck. Soon, he was working on getting her to call out for a higher power.


	10. Compromise Part One

"Peter!" Henry toddled over at full speed, colliding with his biological father's legs.

"Hey there, little man," Peter said as he scooped him up. "Are you ready for your big job?"

Henry nodded seriously and gave him a hug. Peter saw Liv approaching from over Henry's light brown curls.

"You look good," she said with a smile.

"Thanks," Peter smiled back and looked at her violently red dress and heels. "You and Henry clean up well."

"Nice suit!" Henry said, repeating what many adults had said to him.

"It is a very nice suit, Henry," Peter kissed the top of his head and then talked to Liv. "Everyone has been cleared to come back with us after. It would be really great if the three of you could make it."

"I'll have to check with my husband," Liv told him. She glanced over her shoulder to see Lincoln talking with his alter-self. "But we should be able to."

"Good. I'm going to take this little guy over to Rachel. You and Linc can sit wherever you like."

"I can see there are a lot of options," Liv said, glancing at the dozen or so folding chairs that were set up. She ruffled Henry's hair, kissed his cheek and wished him luck.

Peter carried Henry over to Rachel and Ella, who were standing guard at the door to Olivia's office/makeshift dressing room. "We have a ring-bearer!" he announced as he approached, holding Henry higher and getting him to giggle.

"Good, good," Rachel said. "We're ready to go as soon as everyone is situated."

"Then I guess I should go stand over there," he said, putting Henry down. Ella immediately bent down to tickle him.

Peter walked over to where he was supposed to stand and found Walter already there, fidgeting. "Aren't I supposed to be the nervous one?" he asked.

"I'm afraid of something going terribly wrong and interrupting the ceremony," Walter told him. "I wish you had gone with a church."

"Neither of us are religious," Peter said. He would have been annoyed at having to repeat this discussion with Walter, but nothing so far had been able to annoy him that day. "And we thought the Bridge would be fitting. The joining of two worlds and all that."

"I also hate these modern tuxedos," Walter complained, tugging at his lavender waistcoat. "You don't know how lucky you are."

Music started playing and Peter pulled his father's hands away from his clothing. "I think I do. Now look the right way and please be quiet."

Peter heard an "Oh, shit," and turned to see Sam Weiss running up to stand underneath the arch of white tulips and light purple flowers. "You think they would have warned me," he muttered to Peter.

Peter smiled, shrugged, and looked back down the aisle between desks and the short rows of folding chairs. Ella was now leading Henry, tossing flower petals on the ground when she didn't have to grab the toddler to stop him from running to the people they were supposed to be walking past. When they reached the end Walter took Henry's hand and Ella moved to stand on the bride's side.

Astrid came next, led by the Lincoln Lee who was not married to Liv. She was wearing a knee-length lavender dress and he was in a black suit similar to Walter's. He moved to stand on the other side of Walter and she moved to stand next to Ella.

Rachel had no escort, since Walter had opted to stand next to his son from the beginning. As she walked, Peter looked at the crowd. Liv and Lincoln were sitting with his mother, who was in the first seat of the front row. Elizabeth's appearance was as composed as usual, wearing a dark purple dress for the occasion, a bit of lavender pinned to the front. But she gave away her nervousness when she quickly adjusted one of the flower pots that marked the end of the aisle while everyone else was looking at Rachel. Peter had seen her straightening the flowers before the ceremony as well. He couldn't help but notice how similarly she and Walter were behaving.

Broyles, Charlie, the other Astrid (who showed up despite every one's expectations), Nina, and Brandon sat in the second row. The rest of the chairs were filled with friends and acquaintances who worked with them in the Bridge, except for two people Peter didn't recognize who sat in the last row.

Rachel finished her walk and it was time for Olivia.

When she opened the door and stepped out of her office, Olivia looked like it was any other day at work for her, just one that called for her to wear a long white dress. But then she straightened her posture, held her white tulip and purple flower bouquet with both hands, and started her gentle march. Everyone stood, and Peter could tell Olivia smiled as she took in the small crowd in the big white room.

As she grew closer Peter took in more and more details. Her hair was pulled up and curled, so that long tendrils swirled down to her neck. Her white satin dress was sleeveless and stayed tight to her slender body under it flowed out behind her in a small train. Peter's eyes pored over her until suddenly there was a bright white flash.

He would have hit the floor if he didn't have the sense to look to his left first. Sure enough, Walter was holding a camera aimed at his face. He grinned broadly at Peter's indignant expression but didn't bother to put the camera away. Instead he turned and snapped a photo of Olivia, who was silently laughing at the two of them as she walked. When Peter saw her chuckling he forgot to be annoyed.

"I need a copy of that picture as soon as possible, Walter," Olivia whispered when she grew parallel with them.

"Of course, dear," Walter whispered back. He continued to snap pictures as Peter took her hand and they turned toward Sam together.

Sam started the usual talk, but the couple didn't pay much attention to him. Both kept sneaking glances at each other and smiling.

"Olivia pretty," Henry whispered loudly from his spot at Walter's knee.

Olivia smiled even wider, which Peter loved looking at. Walter mumbled a "Yes, she is my boy," and put the camera away, instead looking for tissues to dab his eyes with. Astrid signalled to Peter since she was in his line of vision over Olivia's shoulder. He pulled out a handkerchief and snuck it to Walter. They had feared that Walter would get overly emotional ever since he had immediately teared up upon learning of the engagement. In the case that he wouldn't be able to stand up front during the service, Lincoln Lee was there as back-up (Broyles had politely declined when they asked him). Walter held up well though and wasn't even obnoxiously loud when he blew his nose.

Soon it was time for Peter and Olivia to actually pay attention. "Do you, Peter, take Olivia to be your wife, promising to love and care for her for as long as you both shall live, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad; and to always forgive her, even if she fails to realize you've been replaced by a doppelganger?"

Peter shot him a look, having not expected the last part. But when he recovered and spoke, it rang out loud and clear. "I do."

"And do you, Olivia, take Peter to be your husband, promising to love and care for him for as long as you both shall live, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad; and to always forgive him, even if he finds out important information about your past and your family and keeps it secret?"

"I do," Olivia said, smiling widely.

'Well then, by the power invested in me by one of these universes, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss."

They did. Peter couldn't resist feeling one of her curls, and Olivia couldn't resist feeling the ruffled front of his tuxedo. They pulled apart well before it could get heated and, after huge hugs from Walter, Astrid, and Lincoln, they walked down to the audience, who all were happy to get out of the folding chairs.

Peter received a hug and kiss from his mother and shook many hands. But Olivia seemed intent on seeing one person and dragged Peter past the rest of the people who wanted to wish them congratulations. When they reached the edge of the crowd, Peter saw the two people he hadn't recognized.

"Hi," Olivia said, reaching out and pulling the boy into a hug.

"Congratulations," the woman said to Peter, and held out her hand. He shook it as she introduced herself. "I'm Diane Broyles, and this is my son Christopher. We met Olivia when she was on Our Side."

"You smell nice," Christopher complimented Olivia when they ended their hug.

"Hey, kid, don't go pulling the moves on my wife," Peter said, warningly.

"Don't worry," Christopher told him. "I have my own girlfriend."

"I'm glad that you came," Olivia said to Diane. "If Phillip hasn't done what he did none of this would have been possible. I'm not sure if any of us would even be alive."

"It helps, knowing that," Diana said. "I heard what you said in the trial. Thank you, for ensuring justice. And for having his body returned to us."

"That was more of my boss's doing," Olivia said, glancing at the Broyles who was still alive, talking to Walter.

"Are you coming to the reception?" Peter asked. "There's going to be food."

"No, I have to pick up my daughter from dance practice. I hope you have a lovely time."

"This is for you," Christopher said, holding out what looked like a shoebox.

"Thank you," Olivia said as she took it. Diane led Christopher away but the newlyweds stayed where they were. Olivia lifted the lid off the box to reveal another box, this one small and wooden, with seashells glued to it in a circular pattern.

"He's a sweet boy," she said softly. She looked up at Peter. "We should talk to Walter, see if he can come up with a way to reverse what the Candyman did to him. I can't believe I didn't think of it until now."

"I love you," was Peter's response. He kissed her temple and she gave him a questioning look. "You're at your own wedding and you're still focused on other people. Brides aren't supposed to do that, you know."

Olivia smiled. "I think you're more of the Bridezilla type."

"Oh, I am. I threw a fit to make sure all of the bridesmaids' dresses matched my suit," he joked. "And I might start screaming if you talk to Walter about a case now. It can wait a day. Now I want to go to our reception and dance."

"Sure, Groomzilla, we can dance."


	11. Compromise Part Two

AN: I'm sorry this update took longer than usual. It took me a while to get it right, and I'm still not sure I'm doing the characters justice.

For those who have reviewed, thank you! Your postive words have kept me going. As for other readers, does my writing style or anything make you want to smack me? Feel free to share any criticism you have.

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><p>The reception was at Loeb House on Harvard campus. Those who had been in the Bridge made their way there and were to be joined by Peter and Olivia's friends who were not allowed at the ceremony. Olivia rarely made time to see anyone outside of work but had invited people she used to see before she joined Fringe Division. The friends Peter had invited were the only ones he thought could be trusted not to start a brawl with the FBI agents, so it was sure to be an interesting night.<p>

Markham was the first to arrive after the wedding party. He wore a tuxedo that could have been from the 19th century and looked suspicious of everyone in the room, but Peter happily put an arm around him and started introducing him to everybody.

"Nice suit," Markham told Peter as he was dragged over to the two Lincoln Lees. Peter ignored the comment, especially since Markham's wasn't much better.

"This is Lincoln and this is Lee," Peter told Markham, who shook both of the Lincolns' hands.

"Which one is which?" he asked, looking at the identical men.

"I'm Lincoln," responded the bespectacled one.

"Right," said Markham, as if he didn't believe him. Peter pulled Markham away and Lincoln looked to his alter-self.

"Did he not believe me?" he asked, insecure. "It's my own name!"

"Maybe I'm more of a Lincoln," the other Lincoln said. "I'd switch with you, but your glasses make me blind."

"Hey, look who I found," Charlie's voice called out to them. They turned and saw him coming over, Ben following him. While Charlie was wearing simple black, Ben was wearing a cream colored suit and striped shirt that perfectly accented his dark Latino features. Both Lincolns took note to give Charlie a hard time about his style later.

"Hey," bespectacled Lincoln said, giving his boyfriend a quick hug. "You remember Lee, right?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Ben said, smiling as he looked over the Lincoln-renamed-Lee. "How was the ceremony?" Ben asked, addressing all three of the guys.

"It was really nice."

"I liked it a lot," said Charlie. He nudged his friend. "It was short and to the point, a lot better than yours."

"Yeah, our ceremony did seem to go on forever," Lincoln-now-Lee admitted.

"I liked your maid of honor better though," Charlie said with a grin.

"I think this one looked beautiful," bespectacled Lincoln said.

"Yeah, but you should have seen the cleavage on the one for theirs. It was staring at me the whole time I was standing up as best man."

"That," Lincoln-now-Lee said through clench teeth, "Is my sister you're talking about."

Bespectacled Lincoln became just as upset when he heard that.

"Sorry," Charlie said, though he wasn't sorry at all. The faces they were making were worth it, and he knew Lincoln's sister wouldn't be insulted in the least. "I don't even know how your parents let her wear that dress."

Lincoln-now-Lee sighed. "Lisa has her own... sense of style. We all gave up long ago."

"On our side, too," bespectacled Lincoln admitted.

On the other side of the room, Peter was guiding Markham over to the Olivias. "You know my wife, Olivia," he said, delighting in using the W-word again. "And this is her sister, Libby."

"I knew you two were more than just friends," Markham said to Olivia. "I'm sorry I couldn't talk you out of this though."

"I wish you had," Olivia joked. "I already don't like the way he says wife."

"Very funny," Peter commented. "Come on Markham, you have more people to meet." They walked off in the direction of Broyles. Olivia had to smile at the thought of Broyles and Markham having a conversation.

"I have to ask," Liv said to her. "What is up with Peter's suit?"

Olivia gave out a short laugh. "It was Walter's when he got married."

"And Peter thought it would be nice to wear a retro purple tuxedo to one of most important events of his life?"

"No, he refused at first," Olivia said. "And I wasn't interested in a big white wedding. I wanted to load our family members in a car and elope somewhere, wearing jeans. But Peter wanted to see me with flowers and wearing a dress and I agreed on the condition that he would make Walter happy." And in the interest of being completely honest, she added, "Also, I wanted to see him wear ruffles."

"I like how it turned out," Liv said. "Lincoln and I did the big, traditional ceremony to please his parents. Yours actually represented you as a couple."

"What would you liked to have done?" Olivia asked, curious.

"I don't know," Liv admitted. "But I would have let Lincoln incorporate his love for Star Wars into it somehow."

"Don't you mean Lee, Libby?"

"Shit. Yes. It's going to be tough to keep all these lies straight."

Olivia thought those words were rather ironic coming out of Liv's mouth, but she didn't point it out. Things had worked out for the best and they were on civil terms, no matter how hard it sometimes was to always be civil.

"It would be harder to deal with the fall-out of the curious tourists finding out we let people cross between universes for a wedding," Olivia reminded her instead. "Also, if you want to talk to Rachel tonight, you should know that she thinks you and Peter together briefly when he went back to your universe for the first time. I didn't want her knowing that we switched places for two months."

Switched places. Nice word choice, both Olivias thought to themselves.

"Thanks," Liv said. "It's already weird enough just seeing her. Ella and Henry seem to be getting along though."

"Ella loves playing with him when he stays with us," Olivia told her. They looked at the sort-of cousins, who were playing some game that required them to run in circles around Walter and Elizabeth. Walter and Elizabeth didn't seem to mind however, as they were deep in conversation.

A new person coming in the door behind Peter's parents caught Olivia's eye. "Oh, that's my friend Beth. I should go talk to her."

She left Liv/Libby and moved toward the brunette wearing a black skirt and floral top. She walked past Walter, who was loudly saying "Oh, you must visit this side for longer than just the wedding. I have some wonderful pictures of Peter in his awkward pre-teen days that you should see!" and was thankful that Markham was on the other side of the room glaring at the two Astrids.

"Beth!"

"Olivia, hi!" Beth hurried over and gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then handed her a box covered in silver wrapping paper. "I got you a little wedding present," she explained. "Since you weren't on the registry I got you a toaster. Figured you'd use it eventually."

Olivia laughed and rubbed her cheek. Beth wore a lot of lipstick. "I'm sure we will. We didn't do the registry since we have our house set up, but we live with Peter's father who likes to experiment with food. This will ensure that I won't have to go without my toast the next time he breaks it. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Beth said. "I was hoping you still liked toast. It's been years since I've seen you!"

"I know, I'm sorry. Work has kept me busy, and my sister and my niece moved in so when I had time off I spent it with them."

"And Peter," Beth added with a smile.

"Yeah, I did spend some time with him. Shall I introduce you?" Olivia brought Beth over to Peter and Markham, who seemed to be having a debate.

"I don't trust you, Bishop," Markham was saying. "There are far too many sets of twins here. They must be doubles from the other universe."

"I'm not lying to you, Markham," Peter insisted. "I think Olivia and her sister met Lincoln and Lee at the twin festival in Twinsburg, Ohio. And it's simply a coincidence that we work with Astrid and Astra." He noticed Olivia and Beth walking up to them. "Isn't that right, honey?"

"Yes," Olivia said, making sure it didn't seem like she was lying. "Peter, this is my old friend Beth. Beth, this is my husband."

"You like saying that, too," Peter grinned at Olivia before turning to Beth. "Hi," he said, shaking her hand. Beth seemed a bit stunned by the purple. She looked back and forth between the tuxedo and Olivia's sleek modern dress as if she was wondering how they ended up together.

Markham spotted his opportunity to catch them in the lie. "Old friend? So, Beth, you knew that Olivia has a twin named Libby?"

This caught Beth even more off-guard than the purple ruffles, but she responded. "Uh... yeah. I think I remember Olivia talking about both of her sisters, one of them being a twin."

"I'm sorry, he's a bit of a conspiracy theorist," Peter explained to Beth. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to sit with him during dinner, which I think is about to start. Markham, can you bring her over to the table I showed you?"

"Anything to get me out of this conversation with you," Markham gibed. But he very nicely brought Beth over to the table and introduced her to those sitting there that he already knew.

"At least he showered today," Peter remarked as the two walked away. "Though that suit is a bit musty."

"Is it really time for dinner?" Olivia asked, her bare arms feeling especially naked without her watch.

Peter pulled up a purple sleeve and checked his own watch. "Almost. I mostly wanted to get rid of Markham. He's a knowledgeable bookseller and I'm happy to give him a free meal, but I don't really want to spend my wedding with the guy."

"Should we worry about him alerting the public?"

"Naw. He might tell his conspiracy buddies, but I don't think even they listen to what he says." He reached out and took her hand. "Ready for our first meal as a married couple?"

"I could eat," she shrugged.

Peter loved the way her bare shoulders looked when she nonchalantly moved them up and down. "I love it when you wear a dress," he whispered as he led her to the head table.

"Yeah? Well, I hate it. We should get a divorce."

Peter chuckled. "Okay. There's no reason to stay together after the wedding anyway. They say it's all downhill from here."

"It's too bad. I was looking forward to our first night together.

"Really?" Peter stopped where they were, only a few feet from their seats. He rested his hands on her hips, feeling the tight satin, and whispered into her ear. "You know, we could still spend the night together. Break-up sex. Or, if you really want to get out of that dress, I happened to notice that the coat closet can be locked from the inside..."

"No thanks," Olivia replied and promptly walked away, trying to not to let him see her smile. Rachel was already in her maid-of-honor chair, and Olivia took her spot next to her.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked.

"We're getting a divorce," Olivia informed her, stone-faced again. Peter took his seat on the other side of her.

"That's too bad," Rachel said, and joined in the joke. "So, now that Peter is out of the picture, who are you going to go after?"

"Oh, yeah, Livia, are you going to ask Lincoln out now that you're single?" Peter asked.

"I'm still not that interested in him. But there are plenty of guys here, I'm sure I'll be able to seduce whoever I want with this dress tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you aren't interested in Lincoln," Rachel said. "Those glasses are adorable."

"Sorry, Rach," Peter told her. "See that guy Lincoln is talking to? That's his boyfriend, Ben Rodriguez. You can got out with me though."

"No, thanks," she said, now raking her eyes up and down Ben. "He's hot, too." Peter and Olivia both raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look.

Walter came up to the table, quick animated. "Peter! They said that dinner is about to be served, and that I should use the microphone to tell everyone. Do you have it?"

"It's right here, Walter," Peter said, picking it up from the table where they had agreed to keep it.

"Excellent!" Walter took the microphone and happily turned it on. "Hello! I'm Dr. Walter Bishop, father of the groom. It is now time to eat, so everyone should take a seat!"

Everyone did. Lincoln, Astrid, and Ella joined them at the rectangular head table. Henry sat with his mom, dad, and grandmother at a table with most of the agents from Over There. The other three round tables filled up with agents and friends from Our Side, and everyone enjoyed chatting and eating their meal of chicken, steak, and veggies. The garlic mashed potatoes were quite good.

After the three-tier chocolate with strawberry wedding cake was cut and pieces passed out, Walter picked up the microphone again. He clenched a stack of note cards full of his scribbles in his hand and was visibly shaking as he started to speak.

"Hello, hello," he said. The room quieted and Walter looked over the four tables of people who had gathered to eat and celebrate his son's wedding. And then he looked at Peter and Olivia, leaning against each other and looking at him expectantly, matching glasses of champagne in their hands.

"I'm Peter's father," he told the room. "I'm the only here who has knew both Peter and Olivia as children. I see them now, grown up and truly happy, and I- and I'm-" he paused and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from tearing up more. But it was no use. "I'm sorry, this is all too wonderful. Elizabeth?"

Walter sat and let Peter clasp his shoulder. He held the microphone up for Elizabeth, who quickly came over from her table.

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth. Walter asked me to finish his speech for him if he couldn't." She took the note cards from him and flipped through them quickly, deciphering his scribbles. Then she addressed those who were enjoying their dessert. "I'm a cousin of Peter's mother. We were quite close when she was alive, and I'm sure that she would be very proud of her son today."

Peter mouthed "Thank you," knowing what she was saying while lying for the benefit of those outside of Fringe Division. Walter slipped a hand into hers. She grasped it and continued.

"As Walter was saying, he was lucky enough to get to know Peter and Olivia when they were both children. Even then they were extradinary and faced obstacles that no one should suffer through, let alone children. But they faced them, and it only made them stronger. And though they withstood even more heartbreak as adults they always put the worlds first, ensuring the safety of the universes before developing their personal lives." There were some confused faces at that bit from those in the audience who weren't familiar with the Fringe Division.

"Walter, um..." Elizabeth skipped over a card where Walter argued that Peter not bringing young women home for sex was proof that he harbored strong feelings for Olivia. "Walter watched as Peter and Olivia worked closely together and fell in love. It is with high spirits that he sees them now, allowing themselves to find joy together. For they are truly each other's match and both deserve great merriment and prosperity. So, let's raise our glasses and toast their marriage!"

They did and then it was Rachel's turn to make a speech. She took the microphone, held up her glass, and made it simple.

"Unlike Walter and Elizabeth, I didn't know Peter until just a few years ago. But I have known my sister for my entire life, and I have never seen her with someone who has understood her as well as Peter. As Walter said, it's wonderful to see them this happy." She raised her glass and everyone followed suit. "A toast, to Peter and Olivia."

Everyone drank.

And then Sam got up from his chair (which happened to be next to Markham) and walked swiftly over, standing right in front of the bride and groom. He took the microphone from Rachel and turned to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in his suave I-own-a-bowling-alley voice. "I hope that you are all enjoying your dessert. But please, put down your spoons and give a round of appluase for Mr. and Mrs. Bishop!"

Everyone clapped but the newlyweds. They glared dangers at Sam, who knew they wanted a simple, quiet celebration and not a demolition derby. But he just smiled and motioned for them to stand up. He turned his palm to the guests and the clapping ceased. "It's time for Peter and Olivia's first dance as a married couple. Eyes on the dance floor, please."

Peter held out his hand. Olivia took it and he led them to the part of the floor that was smooth wood. They turned to each other and tried to ignore that everyone was staring at them. His hands slipped around her waist and hers rested on shoulders. "Pale Blue Eyes" started to play. They swayed and moved closer together, her shining white satin pressing against his ruffles and deep purple velvet. And then they danced.


	12. Fishing

Peter and Walter set their little metal rowboat onto the gravelly sand, aiming it toward the water. As soon as it was set the boat's third occupant started loading it with the gear that she had carried over. Peter watched as she did so and realized she was missing one thing.

"Ella, where's your life jacket?" he asked her.

Ella responded with her own question. "Why do I have to wear one?"

"Your mother will kill me if you don't. Go get your life jacket."

"But I can swim!" she argued, folding her arms and staring down her uncle.

"It does not matter if you can swim, dear," Walter informed her. "You can't swim when you're unconscious. If we capsize and you hit your head, you will quickly drown without a life jacket to keep you buoyant. Then we will have to hire professional scuba divers to search for your body. That is, if your mother wants to give you a proper funeral."

"I still don't want to wear one," she asserted, though her vehemence had deflated a bit. "We're not going to capsize."

"Too bad. I'm going to get your life jacket, and you're going to wear it," Peter told her firmly and headed back the way they came. He walked past Lincoln and Ben bringing their own boat down to the shore and then reached the shed. A thorough search in the pre-dawn light got him nothing, so he went into the lake house to look. He paused when he spotted Olivia sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee.

"You're supposed to be sleeping in," he told her.

"You were supposed to let me sleep in," she replied. "But you fishermen were really loud."

"Sorry," Peter said. He closed the small distance between them and stood behind her stool, wrapping his arms around her in penance. "You should leave the coffee for later and go to bed."

"I still have trouble getting to sleep when you're not with me," she whispered, more than a little ashamed to admit it but still meeting his gaze steadily.

Peter let his lips touch hers for a second and tasted the coffee. "I hate sleeping alone too," he admitted. "But I should probably go if you don't want Walter and Ella in a boat by themselves."

She placed a hand on his scraggly face, the evidence of him not bothering to shave while they were at the lake house. "Go. I'll look forward to when you come back in the afternoon. It's been a while since we napped together."

He grinned and kissed her one last time before getting to business. "Do you know where Ella's life jacket it?"

"She hid it in the front closet last night," Olivia said, smiling at her niece's stubbornness.

"You Dunhams," Peter muttered as he left the kitchen. Almost as soon as he walked out Rachel walked in, still clad in pajamas and looking groggy.

"Is there more coffee?" she asked. Olivia hopped off the stool and got the mug and coffee for her. She functioned much better than her sister in the early morning and feared for the safety of the glass coffee pot.

"Did we wake you up, too?" Peter asked, walking back through with neon red and green life jacket.

"A-huh," Rachel said, sipping the coffee and waking up a little more. "It's okay though. It will be nice to enjoy the morning here, I'm sure it's beautiful. And since we're on vacation, I can nap."

"Yeah. I gotta go make your daughter put this on," Peter said, holding up what was in his hands.

"Tell her that if she doesn't you're going to hide the dead fish in her bed."

"Will do!" he said happily as he walked out.

"That's great parenting," Olivia stated from her stool.

"Yeah, it's how I won mother of the year," Rachel said dryly, pouring an excessive amount of sugar into her mug. "Speaking of which, you think you and Peter are going to become parents any time soon?"

She glanced up and saw the expression on Olivia's face change. "Sorry," she said. "If it's a touchy subject-"

"No, it's just something I've been thinking about a lot since our anniversary," Olivia said. "We stopped using contraceptives even before the wedding."

"Oh. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not something we wanted to stress out about," Olivia explained. "We just decided that we would both be glad if it happened. But nothing has happened in well over a year."

"Are you going to get checked out?"

"I'll give it a little while longer. But between the Cortexiphan and us being from different universes, it just might not be possible."

"You guys can still adopt," Rachel pointed out.

"We could." Olivia poured herself more coffee, added a small amount of sugar, and stared at it while she stirred. This was one of those rare normal things she could open up to her sister about, but it was still hard to do. "I just wonder sometimes," she said after a while. "If I'm keeping him from having a better life. The life he should have. If this is just one more thing I'm taking away from him. I can tell it's getting harder and harder for him to say goodbye to Henry after every visit."

"Wow," Rachel said, putting down her mug and looking at her intently. "I didn't know that, out of the two of us, you were the stupid sister."

Olivia's eyes shot up from her mug in surprise and Rachel went on. "Really, Liv, you're an idiot. Peter had his time with the other Liv in that universe and he still wanted to come back here and be with you. He might want to spend more time with Henry, but I've seen the way he is with you. He's definitely not regretting his decision."

"Well, I hope you're right," Olivia said, putting on a polite smile. She hoped her sister would take it at face value and move on.

"I am," Rachel said confidently. "Anyway, what did you do for your first anniversary?"

"We were busy working on the actual day." Busy working was an understatement. They had spent twenty straight hours tracking and trapping a giant sea creature that had escaped from a Massive Dynamic research facility. It wasn't until they were in the van wiping ink away from their eyes and Astrid made a joke that they realized what the date was. When they got home Walter presented them with a purple silk bondage set he had ordered from Japan, but they weren't in the mood after being manhandled by giant tentacles. They fell into bed, exhausted, and promised each other the next year would be better. "We celebrated when we had a free night by going to one of our favorite bars. Kept it simple."

"Okay, you just proved my point," Rachel said, quickly switching back to their previous topic. "The other Liv doesn't even like alcohol! Peter could never be with someone who wouldn't go out for drinks with him."

Olivia truly chuckled at that. "You're right. I shudder to think what it would be like if Peter and I hadn't had our mutual love for alcohol to bond over."

"It's a wonderful foundation for a marriage."

"I should never doubt it," Olivia said with a nod. She briefly wondered if that would be enough for the rest of their lives, but she pushed the poisonous thoughts out of her mind and turned the tables on her sister. "Enough about me, how is it going with Ben and Lincoln?"

"Really good," Rachel told her, quite happy to move on to discussing her love life. "They're both great with Ella, and they understand when I can't come out because of her."

"I can't imagine how exhausting it would be to be in a relationship with two guys at once," Olivia said.

"It's like all the other times I dated two guys at once but with fewer dates," her little sister explained. "And it's actually easier than dating one guy, because they aren't constantly seeking my attention. They have each other to occupy themselves."

"Well, I'm glad you're happy," Olivia told her, quite sincere. Rachel needed more people to spend her daily life with, both friends and lovers. It was one of the many ways they were different. "I think would get exhausted trying to keep track of everything."

"More proof that I'm the smart one," Rachel said, taking a sip of her coffe. "I'm liking how this morning is going."

The two sisters made breakfast, more coffee, and then sat together and watched the lake and the trees from the porch. They enjoyed each other's company until the afternoon, when the guys and Ella returned with bass and lake trout. Right away Peter and Olivia headed to their bedroom for a nap. Lincoln attempted to stay awake but fell asleep on the couch while reading. Walter and Ben were the only ones who appeared to still have energy and quickly got to gutting the fish, becoming fast friends over the spices they wanted to use to prepare dinner with.

Rachel and Ella headed to the other upstairs bedroom, but as soon as they were there it became clear that the girl had been feigning sleepiness and did not plan on letting her mother doze off.

"Mom, did you know that Uncle Peter used to be a criminal?"

That caused Rachel to pull the pillow off her head and look at her daughter, who was practically bouncing on the double bed. "Did he tell you that?"

"He didn't mean to," Ella said, happy to start chattering. "When I wouldn't wear my life jacket he started telling me about stupid things he did that almost got him killed. And some of those things were illegal!"

"What type of things?" Rachel asked, concerned. She trusted her sister's judgment and knew it couldn't be too bad, but she didn't want anything rubbing off on her daughter.

"He wouldn't tell me too much," she said, obviously disappointed. "But he did say he thinks he would would have gotten killed by the mob if Aunt Liv hadn't forced him into honest work with the FBI."

"Seems relevant to your life jacket," her mother muttered. She would question her sister extensively about her husband's past nefarious activities later. "But you had a good time fishing?"

"It was fun," Ella replied, much less enthusiastically.

"You didn't like it?" Rachel asked.

"Do you know what they do to that fish? It's gruesome!" her daughter scrunched up her face in disgust. "The poor fish get hooks in their mouth and if they try to escape it just hurts them more! I stopped looking when they caught them, but then Uncle Walter started talking about doing experiments on the fish right there in the boat!"

"Aw, honey, if you wanted to come in you should have said something," Rachel told her. "I'm sure they would have understood."

"I couldn't have done that," Ella said, as if it was obvious. "And we mostly just sat there, so it was okay. But next time we go on vacation, can we go to an amusement park?"

Rachel laughed and agreed. Eventually she convinced Ella to rest, and they did manage to get a nice nap. That is, until Walter called the whole family to dinner by raising a pan over his head and hitting it repeatedly with a spatula.

* * *

><p>AN: Funny story: While I was editing this, my dad knocked on my bedroom door and asked me to help carry his fishing equipment out. None of us will ever go with him though.<p>

I really like the possibility of our Lincoln being in a gay relationship, but I also like the thought of him being with someone who is not on the other side when Olivia is with someone who's missing from the other side. So I did both.

ETA: And 50 awesome points to those who caught my Psych reference.


	13. Bridge

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mom?"

"Yes. I need to know."

Liv killed the engine and got out of the car. She led Marilyn to one of Over There's many entrances to the Bridge. It looked like any other loading dock for a city building, a large metal door in a brick wall, but no trucks ever stopped there with supplies. Instead Liv walked up the few concrete steps and entered the security code into a panel on the wall. The metal door responded by retracting upwards and they walked through.

After a walk down a long, sloping concrete hallway they came to the main part of the Bridge. Marilyn's eyes went wide as she took in the expansive room full of busy agents. Liv, who had long gotten over the impressive sight of her workplace, looked for specific people among the rows and rows of desks.

"Hey," a voice called out to get their attention. Peter walked towards them from where he had been waiting against the side wall. "Olivia called, they're running a little late."

"Figures," Liv remarked under her breath, but didn't push it. "Tell her we're waiting in my office when they get here, okay?"

"Sure thing," he said, ignoring her quiet comment. "How's Henry?"

Liv, who was about to hurry Marilyn into the office, paused. "He's fine. When I told him that I was going to be away for a couple of hours he very cheerfully told me he was glad. He wanted to have fun at the park with the nanny."

Peter chuckled. "Well, I'm glad he didn't throw a temper tantrum."

"Me too," Liv agreed, though part of her wanted to show her son that she could easily kick that nanny's ass. "I'll see you later."

'See ya," he said before getting back to work.

The two Olivias were the only Fringe agents with their own offices in the Bridge. They spent the most time there since they had the most experience on each other's sides. Liv expected her mother to ask about her lush digs, but as Marilyn sat in front of Liv's desk she went right to questioning her relationship with Peter. "Are things awkward between the two of you?"

"No, Mom."

"I'm glad you told me the truth, but I still don't understand why he went back to the other universe when he could have stayed with you," Marilyn referred to the lie she believed, the same one that Olivia told Rachel.

Liv sighed, annoyed. "He couldn't have stayed with me, Mom. I wouldn't have wanted him to."

"But you have a child with him! Shouldn't he take care of you?"

Now Liv had to roll her eyes. Her mother was a strong woman who raised two girls by herself, but she still had traditional views. Marilyn would have stayed with Liv's father no matter what if he hadn't passed away. Liv didn't know for sure, but she assumed that was why Olivia had been stuck with her stepfather for so long. Liv was luckier, but she was still stuck with a mother who questioned how anyone could have been with three guys in one year. "No, Mom, he shouldn't. Neither of us were looking for a long term relationship when we got together, we just happened to both be lonely at the same time."

Marilyn pursed her lips. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the lie they were selling her, but not because of it's lack of truth. "I still can't believe you did something so unlike you."

"Well, it worked out. And I think my husband and son are glad it did." Liv couldn't stop the acidity in her tone. Such venom was rare even when she was frustrated with her mother, so Marilyn responded with concern.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Olive," Marilyn said, in a voice much softer than her earlier questions. "But I can't like Peter if he scorned you."

_Don't tell her about the gun-pointing_, Liv thought to herself. "You didn't upset me, Mom. But I'm not thrilled about this meeting."

"Do you think I'm going to start bitching out the other Olivia for taking Peter?"

A smile escaped Liv. It was always great to hear her mom say 'bitch'. But the smile didn't stay on her face when she thought of the reason. "No, Mom. I'm not kidding when I say I think it worked out for the best. It made me give Lincoln a chance. But... it hurts when I see Rachel. I can't imagine what it's going to be like for you."

Marilyn patted Liv's hand that rested on her desk. "You're sweet. But you don't have to worry, I know my Rachel is with God. Meeting the other her is going to be a comfort. It will make it easier to picture mine... and the little girl who is with her."

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. It was followed by Olivia entering with her still-alive sister and niece.

At first, there was silence. Rachel and Marilyn had wanted this to happen and begged their respective Olivias to let the Fringe Division do them this one favor. But the moment they saw each other, neither could speak or even move. Liv stayed seated behind her desk, her arms crossed but her eyes on her mother, ready to move if she needed comfort. Olivia watched Rachel's face, but didn't wait for a sign before taking her hand. Ella glanced over the older blond woman, but was more intrigued by seeing and comparing the two different versions of her aunt.

At last Marilyn stood and said, "Hi."

"Hi," responded Rachel.

They walked towards each other and then paused again. What do you do when you meet an alter-family member? Introduce yourself? Embrace? At first they decided on shaking hands, but then Marilyn drew her in for a quick, awkward hug.

"This is Ella," Rachel said, pulling back and motioning towards her daughter and then wiping a few stray tears.

"Hello, Ella," Marilyn said to her.

"Hi," Ella replied shyly.

Liv stood up then, finding it awkward to sit in her desk chair while everyone else was standing. "I have more chairs, if you want to sit down."

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said. Liv started towards them, but Rachel brushed her off and pulled one from against the wall herself. "Don't worry, we got it."

Ella grabbed herself a chair as well and Olivia took the one that was already next to Marilyn. Then they were all sitting and it was silent again.

Ella broke the silence. "So, does she look like Grandma?" she asked her mom.

"Yes." It had been over twenty years since Rachel had seen her mother healthy, but despite aging and the passage of time there was no mistaking her.

"You look well," Marilyn complimented her deceased daughter's double, not quite sure how to convey her feelings. Or sure what she was feeling.

"Thank you, I feel well," Rachel said with a little laugh. Marilyn looked at her questioningly so she continued. "I was recently diagnosed with the same cancer our mother had."

"Oh," was Marilyn's response. Liv shot a glare at Olivia. She had requested that this information not be shared with Marilyn, since she didn't want her mother to stress over the possibility of losing the same daughter twice. But Marilyn didn't react the way Liv expected. "Is it the same cancer that I had? They know how to take care on it on my side."

"I believe it is," Rachel told her. "I'm a Fringe experiment subject now. They're monitoring me to make sure that the difference of universes doesn't affect the results of the treatment."

"The prognosis is good, I hope?"

"So far the treatments are working exactly as they should be."

Marilyn smiled. "That's nice to hear. And everything else in your life, is it going well?"

"Very well," Rachel told her happily. "But busy, between working, dating, and taking care of Ella."

"You don't have to take care of me that much," Ella piped in. She looked to Marilyn for agreement. "I'm old enough to stay home alone."

"No," Rachel and Olivia said at once.

"Your mother knows best," Marilyn said to the young girl, settling it. Then she turned back to Rachel with curiousity. "You said you've been dating. You're not with Greg anymore?"

"No, I'm not. I've actually been seeing the Lincoln Lee from my Side. We met at Peter and Olivia's wedding." Rachel decided to leave out the peculiarities of their relationship for the time being. It always took a while for people to understand that it was possible.

"Oh," said Marilyn, intrigued. "You know, he's part of the family on Our Side, too."

"Yes, I do know. I prefer my version, but both versions are fine men."

Liv rolled her eyes at that but didn't say anything. Marilyn looked at Ella, the granddaughter she never got to have. "Other than not being able to stay home alone, how are you? Is school going well?"

"Yeah," she replied with a proud grin. "I almost got all A's last quarter."

"Excellent work! Do you know what you want to do when you're older?"

Ella looked at her mother and aunt before responding. "They always tell me I should reconsider, but I want to help protect people like my Aunt Liv."

The older women exchanged looks. No one wanted that tough future for Ella.

Surprisingly, it was Liv who spoke up. "Maybe you should be a human rights activist," she suggested.

Marilyn agreed. "Do you know that your aunt helped send a bad guy to prison on Our Side, too?" Ella shook her head no, glancing at Olivia.

"I'm under strict orders not to talk about the Other Side," she said to her niece as explanation.

"Well, I'm not," Marilyn told her. "You aunt was very brave and charged a man who was in a high position of power with war crimes. But if it weren't for the human rights activists who worked on the trial and ensured he was convicted, he could have gone free."

"I'll think about it," Ella said, quite serious for a girl her age.

Another knock on the door interrupted their small talk. Lincoln poked his head in. "Liv, Olivia, can I talk to you a moment?"

He started as soon as they closed the door behind them. "I know both of you are supposed to be off duty, but you're being called in and they have to go."

"They just got here!" Liv said, ready to argue while Olivia simply said, "Why?"

"There are groups of mind-controlling clones wreaking havoc. On both sides," he explained. "Peter said it's similar to a case you've seen before. Liv, have you read the case file?"

She nodded. Their knowledge would be useful and they may even need Olivia's abilities, so it was no use to argue further. She looked to Olivia. "Reschedule?"

Olivia agreed, relieved she wouldn't have to fight with Liv on behalf of her sister. They quickly sent their families back to their respective universes and got to work. After a lot of stealth and even more far distance tranquilizer darts, they started on the clean up. It appeared that William Bell had run tests in both universes, so the mess was not just the damage to brains and property but to universal relations and Massive Dynamic. By the time they finished and were able to have another meeting, Rachel had been given a clean bill of health and there was another Dunham on the way.

* * *

><p>AN: WalterWalternate, thank you for your thought out and wonderful reviews!<p>

At the moment I have plans for 7 more chapters. It's a lot longer than I originally planned, but the story has gone places I hadn't expected and some of the reviews have inspired me to focus on more things. It was while writing about the wedding I realized Marilyn should have some part in all of this, so I added this bit. I hope it also shows some of what I wish life could be like for Lincoln and AltLiv without going in to it too much (because then I'll never finish this).


	14. Worry

_This is what you wanted._

The thought came unwelcome to Olivia's mind. _I don't know what I want_, she thought more fiercely, trying to focus on the files spread across her desk.

It was a tough case. A young man, barely out of his teens, already an ex-convict but trying to get his life together so he could take care of his new wife and infant son. Unfortunately he answered the wrong help wanted ad and died as a result of brutal experimentation.

Olivia stared at the pictures of the scene, searching the background for clues. What was truly horrible was that she had seen other bodies dumped in the same spot between abandoned warehouses, both before and after she joined Fringe division. She remembered them too well. One victim was a woman who had been raped and tortured before left to die. She left behind two children and her assailant was never found. The other was an old man who had been used to test a new gas. The scientist had hoped the gas would temporarily paralyze people, freezing them wherever they were standing. It hadn't worked, it just caused a slow and painful death.

To make the case even worse, Olivia was probably going to have to talk to Nina about this one. Their relationship had been strained, to say the least, since the Tylers incident.

Olivia didn't really blame Nina for still withholding information, even after their years of semi-friendship. But the incident had proven once and for all that William Bell cared little for human lives. Lives like her own. And since Olivia couldn't direct her anger at a dead man (or her father-in-law), why not the woman who had let her love for Bell blind her to his severe character flaws?

Olivia closed her eyes and rested her head on her forearms. _This world_...

"Dunham," Broyles' voice shook her out of her dark reverie. "Can I see you in my office?"

Olivia nodded. She closed the files, leaving them for later.

"What is it, sir?" she asked as she walked into her boss's office. Broyles gestured for her to take a seat and waited until she did so before he spoke.

"Dunham, I'd like for you tell me what is going on."

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked, hoping for clarification.

"I told you before that I pay attention," he said. "You've been distracted since you came in today. You seem more upset than I have ever seen you, and considering everything that has happened in the past few years, that is quite something."

"I'm sorry, I try not to let my personal life affect my work-" Olivia started, but Broyles waved a hand to stop her.

"You don't need to explain if it's personal," he assured her. "I just need to know if it could affect the Division. Do I have to transfer you away from the Bishops?"

"No, it's not something that would warrant that," she told him. "I had a physical this morning and received some news."

"Are you ill?"

"In a way." She figured now was as good as a time as any, so she held his gaze and told him. "I'm pregnant."

Broyles leaned back in his chair and considered her. "Unwanted?"

"No, actually," she said. "It's something we've been hoping for. But now I'm realizing how big of a mistake this could be. I'm sorry I've been letting it get to me."

"I'd be more concerned if you weren't acting any differently, Dunham. Does Peter know?"

"You're the first I've told," Olivia admitted. Broyles straightened his posture and put his hands on his desk.

"I can't speak for the two of you," he prefaced. "But my children have given my life meaning."

"And you don't regret having them?" she had to ask. "After everything you've seen?"

"I could never regret having them," he told her. "Parenting is incredibly difficult. Possibly more difficult than the work we do here. There are days when I fear I will go insane with worry because of them. But I have found that it is all worth it. Nothing can compare to the love, joy, and pride your children will make you feel."

Olivia nodded, trying to imagine it. But it didn't work. "Ever since I found out I haven't been able to stop thinking about how awful this world is," she admitted.

"The worlds can be awful. It is up to you to teach your children how to improve it."

Olivia looked down and tugged on a bit of her pant leg to smooth it out. In all the years that they had worked together, they had probably talked about her emotions twice. But, despite his appearance, Broyles was a person you could always go to for advice. So she said, "I hope this feeling goes away."

"It might," was all he offered. "Don't stay late tonight. Finish the paperwork from the last case and give the files to Agent Lee. Then you can go home and talk to Peter."

"I will," she promised, getting up to leave. She paused before she was fully out of the chair. "Sir, if we discover that Massive Dynamic-"

"I'll talk to Nina," he assured her before she could finish. She started to move away again, but he stopped her.

"One more thing, Dunham." He looked at her, as serious as he almost always was. "I think you and Bishop are just strange enough to make great parents."

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

As she walked back to her desk a new thought came to her mind. It was the image of a child, sweet and innocent, making all the world a more beautiful place.

She spent the rest of her day at work alternating between pleasant and poisonous thoughts. She thought about coming home after a rough day at work to a cheerful child who didn't know about the horrors of her job. She thought about ravaging childhood diseases. She thought about storytime. She thought about internet predators. She thought about teaching her son or daughter how to shoot their father with a squirt gun.

Her thoughts became more and more positive when she left the office and headed home. Walter would be an incredible grandfather, always spoiling the child with sweet treats. Ella would love to have another cousin to play with. With its father's genes, the kid was sure to be a genius.

Once home, she checked the refrigerator to see what she could make for dinner. They were almost out of steak, but there was just enough for her to mix it with some broth and veggies and get her stew on. Walter and Astrid were staying overnight at a museum, having volunteered to tell stories at the day campers' slumber party (and wanting to sleep next to the dinosaurs), so Olivia only had to make enough for her and Peter.

She heard the key turn in the lock and her husband walk in. "I'm home!" he called out, sticking to their agreement to always announce themselves.

"In the kitchen!" Olivia called. Peter hung up his pea coat and joined her.

"Smells good, hon," he told her, nuzzling her neck as she stirred, making sure he got a good smell of her skin. Then he went to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

"I was going to open the bottle of wine we have left over from Easter," she said, looking at the beer.

He promptly put it back. "What's the occasion?"

"I had time to cook a meal," she said, leaving the conversation for later. "I have bread warming up in the oven and everything."

"Wow," Peter commented. He pulled out two wine glasses and started setting the dining room table.

She turned off the stove and filled her own bowl, leaving the rest for Peter to serve himself. Then Olivia pulled the bread out of the oven, removed it from the foil, and put it on a sharing plate. They took their food to the dining room table and sat, Peter pouring the wine.

Olivia had felt relaxed, almost content when Peter came in. She had had it all planned out. Have a nice dinner with her husband, tell him the joyful news, let him celebrate with the wine. But now that it was time to put the plan in action, the negative thoughts returned.

_Parenting will be too stressful, it will destroy our marriage._

"Livia, this is really good," Peter said, oblivious to her thoughts. "Is it a recipe?"

_We won't have time for the kid because of our jobs. It will grow up emotionally stunted. It will become a sociopath._

"No, I just threw it together."

_I won't lose the baby weight and Peter's eye will start to wander, looking for someone hotter._

"How was the lab?" she asked, giving in to temptation to put off the inevitable.

"Awful," he told her. "Since his assistant had the day off, I had to help Walter examine that kid. We think they tried to turn him into an orangutan, which explains why he had that expression of terrible pain. Some of his bones and muscles had started to transform."

_Who would even think of that? _Olivia took a drink of her water.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, finally catching on to her discomfort. "I didn't even know you were going to be home today."

"Lincoln took the lead on the case," she explained.

Peter studied her for a moment. "Why aren't you drinking?"

_Shit_. She cursed his observation skills as her mind battled over telling the truth or lying. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to keep something from Peter. Their marriage had been going really, really well but this... this was hard. She couldn't handle it if he freaked out. Or if he started gushing.

"I'm not supposed to," she said at last, the thought _Full disclosure _winning the battle.

"Are you on antibiotics?"

"No," Olivia answered.

Peter's eyes widened. He looked at the food and at the wine as if they had a whole new meaning.

"Are you pregnant?"

Olivia nodded. Peter beamed, quickly standing. He closed the distance between them in seconds, pulling her into a hug.

"This is great! We've been trying for so long, I was beginning to think that me being from another universe-" he cut himself off, perhaps feeling in the hug that she didn't share the same excitement. He pulled back and looked at her. He had assumed the steely mask on her face was to hide her happiness, but now he could tell he had been wrong. "Do you... do you not want this, anymore?"

"I'm just so worried," she told him, her green eyes telling him the honesty of that statement. "Look at what was done to that man, at what has happened in our lives. What's going to happen to our child?"

Peter placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb rubbing her skin softly. "Livia, honey, we can't protect them from everything. But between your gun and your abilities it would be damn near impossible for something bad to happen to them."

Olivia nodded, but Peter could tell her anxieties hadn't left her. "Remember those universes we saved?" he asked.

Her mouth quirked at that. "Yeah, I remember."

"And that time you brought me back from non-existence?"

She nodded again.

"Raising a kid should be a piece of cake compared to that," he told her. And then he thought about it. "Okay, maybe it will be about the same. Or worse. They say it's pretty hard. Shit."

Olivia watched as anxiety spread across his face. She couldn't help but smile. _He's starting to get it_.

"Shit," Peter repeated. He dropped his hands and stood, looking around at their house. "We're going to have to baby-proof everything!" he said, starting to pace. "We can't let Walter experiment at home anymore, the fumes could be dangerous. Not to mention cleaning supplies and our bottles of liquor, we have to lock those up. And there's so much the kid can run into, the table corners and the glass door... and the stairs! Why do we have so many stairs?"

Olivia could easily picture everything Peter imagined as he described the dangers he saw just glancing around the room. But somehow all these new horrible scenarios weren't causing her to panic. It was comforting, knowing Peter was right there with her. And it was easier, now that he was the one in distress, to look at everything rationally.

"Think our marriage can handle me not drinking for a year?" she asked, hoping to distract him before he remembered the weapons they kept in the house.

He turned and knelt back down next to her chair, his hand going back to her cheek. "You aren't going to go through withdrawal, are you?"

Olivia wasn't sure if he was joking or actually concerned. "Of course not, but you're going to have to go to after case drinks with the rest of the department by yourself."

"I won't be going," Peter told her, giving her a smile. "I'm going to be way too busy making sure you aren't sneaking scotch at home. I can't have my kid being born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. They're going to be a big strong genius, like me." His hand stopped moving and his eyes moved to the table. "Speaking of which, you have food to eat." He happily moved back to his seat, ripping some bread and dunking it in. He looked up at her while he chewed. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"That's where I found out,"she said, eating dutifully and liking the smile that was now staying on Peter's face. "I'm almost five weeks along and everything looks good. So the kid's going to be a genius, huh?"

"With our genes? Of course," Peter said as he sipped the wine. "They'll know how to throw a punch, too."

"Hopefully they'll choose a career path that doesn't require that skill."

"Maybe they'll get Walter's habit of experimenting with food and be a chef."

"As long as they don't experiment with drugs like he does."

"Only good drugs. They'll cure AIDS." Peter gulped down the rest of his wine and grabbed the glass that was supposed to be Olivia's.

"They better not get it themselves."

"It won't matter because they'll cure it!" he said cheerfully. "But, if it's a boy, and he gets my strong jaw, he's going to be pretty irresistible."

"You don't have that strong of a jaw, honey," Olivia quipped. "And what if it's a girl?"

"She's not going to date," Peter decided. "We can't have her ending up with a conman."

"That would be awful," Olivia agreed. "Especially if the conman doesn't have a strong jaw."

"I have a strong jaw!" he insisted so loudly Olivia had to wonder if he had ingested something at the lab that was mixing with the alcohol. Or maybe the news was making them both a bit unhinged. She finished the last of her stew and watched as he eyed her with a serious expression on his face. His took one last draw from her wine glass and then stood.

"I have a strong jaw," he repeated, walking around the table on steady feet. He leaned in to her ear. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

Olivia met his gaze, his eyes just inches from her own, and had to ask, "Was that supposed to be a come on?"

4

"That story about the snoring brontosaurus actually frightened me," Walter told Astrid as he held the door open for her. She carried the Dunkin Donuts through the door and to the kitchen. Walter paused at the stairs to yell, "Peter! Olivia! We brought breakfast!"

There was no response. Walter strained his ears, trying to hear snores, and realized that the shower was running.

"Are they coming?" Astrid asked.

"I think one of them is in the shower," he said, walking into the kitchen to riffle through the bags. "Hopefully I didn't wake the other up. Usually Olivia wakes earlier than this and makes coffee." He looked at the pot, which was clean and empty. That was fine, since they had brought some, but it did cause Walter to worry if one of them was ill.

"Oh well, I'm not going to wait for them to have their choice of sandwiches," Astrid said, reaching in and finding her favorite croissant filled with gooey food-like substances. As she bit in they heard quick footsteps and a door close above them.

"They better hurry up or the food won't be warm," Walter said. He ignored the selection of warm sandwiches and bit into a strawberry doughnut.

Peter and Olivia came down before the food had a chance to cool off. They were both dressed for the day, but between their body language and equally damp hair, Walter and Astrid knew exactly what they had been doing.

"Ah, sex in the shower!" Walter cried happily. "I do hope you were careful."

"Walter, we're married and going to have a kid," Peter said. "We don't have to be careful."

"I was referring to the dangers of the shower. Thousands die each year when they slip in the shower, and that's not even when sex is mixed in. Most accidental deaths happen at home, you know."

Astrid was the one who bothered to hear just what Peter had said. "Wait, going to have a kid? Not trying?"

"Going," Olivia clarified, grabbing a bag and taking an egg, sausage, and cheese sandwich.

Walter nearly passed out in happiness.

* * *

><p>AN: One random Arrested Development reference. I have a problem.<p> 


	15. Princess

The house was dark when Peter got home.

He was greeted by Walter's snores as he entered the front door, but all else was quiet. Peaceful. Which was rare for them, these days.

"I'm home!" he whispered, on the off-chance that Olivia was just around the corner, ready to attack any intruders with the fire poke. There was no response (except for some more snores) so he quietly hung up his pea coat and headed up the stairs.

Their bedroom was empty, so he walked to the next room and peeked inside. It had been refurnished just a few months ago with a crib, dresser, changing table, and toy chest all made of a light-stained wood. On one of the soft purple walls was a stuck-on image of smiling Sesame Street characters, a gift from Uncle Lincoln. Another gift, from Aunt Astrid, was on the dresser. It was a collection of blue, yellow, and red blocks that had been organized to spell out _Elizabeth Marilyn Bishop_. All could be seen by the soft blue light of one of Walter's contraptions that he had invented to soothe the newborn.

There was also a rocking chair. It was a darker wood than the rest of the set, being a gift from Aunt Rachel. Peter's eyes focused on this, as it was currently occupied by two of his favorite people.

"Hey," he said softly.

Olivia looked up from infant she was nursing and saw him in the doorway. "Hey," she returned.

"How is she?" he asked, moving closer.

"Loud. She woke up a few minutes ago and must have been really hungry."

"Maybe she knew Daddy was going to be home soon," Peter said, standing next to her and smiling down at the baby.

Olivia patted his hip, as if to say _There there, you delusional man, there there_.

"How was it?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"It was okay," Peter whispered. "I think Henry grew three feet since we last saw him. He's got a pretty good throwing arm, too. Wants to know when Lizzie can play with him."

"It's supposed to be a couple of years," she said, rubbing the baby's cheek. "But she's got a pretty strong grip, so maybe it will be just a couple of months."

Peter placed a hand close to one of Lizzie's and she grasped a finger, proving her mother right. "My mom says she's going to try and come by next week. Whichever day they'll let her through the Bridge."

"That will be nice," Olivia said, trying to hold back a yawn. She looked as tired as Peter felt. Probably worse, since he had been the lucky one who got to leave for the day.

"Lincoln told me he and Liv are thinking about adopting."

Olivia gave him an odd look. "A pair of siblings who were orphaned in Detroit?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked, surprised (though he shouldn't be. He thought it was just a matter of time until she developed telepathy.)

"Rachel told me today that she and Lincoln are looking into it. On our side."

"Huh," Peter remarked. "Wait, what about Ben?"

"He broke up with them months ago. He met someone else who wasn't interested in a four-way relationship. Remember?"

"I must've forgotten. But that's interesting, both Lees are with Dunhams and they're adopting the same kids," he recounted. "Sometimes I think the universes don't need our help keeping themselves balanced."

"Maybe we should focus more on finding the people who will purposely disrupt it," Olivia muttered sourly.

Detroit was still a sore topic, and probably always would be. Rogue scientists had attempted to create their own way between the universes and succeeded in creating a vortex. By the time people who knew how to take care of it had gotten there, a large chunk of the Motor City had been lost.

Olivia didn't blame herself. She knew it was irrational to think that the response time would have been faster if she had been allowed in the field. She knew that there was no way she could have caught those idiots before they killed themselves with their damn experiment. Maybe, if she had been stationed in the Midwest, then her pregnant months spent pouring over case files would have ended with her realizing they were planning something. But she was stationed in Boston, so her having a child was not to blame for the lives that had been lost.

But she did blame her inaction during the years since the Bridge, and well as Broyles' and Walter's and Peter's. They should have had trained response teams all over the country. Why had they gotten so complacent?

"We'll be ready next time," Peter assured her, knowing her thoughts. "If there is one. Now that people know just what can happen when they mess with the rules of the universes, they may not be too keen to try."

Olivia nodded. She sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen again.

But now, she had the time to watch Lizzie's beautiful little cheeks as she ate. The two parents fell into silence, enjoying the quiet moment with their child. Peter rested on his knees, wishing they had another rocking chair for him to sit in.

"I think she's full," Olivia whispered after a while, seeing Lizzie move her head away.

"I'll take her," Peter reached out and lifted the infant out of his wife's arms and stood up. "Hey Princess Lizzie," he whispered into one of her tiny ears. "I missed you today. Did you miss me?"

Lizzie's eyes stayed tightly closed, but her little mouth opened in a yawn and she pushed her dark-haired head into the crook of Peter's arm.

"I think the Princess is ready for sleep again," he told Olivia. She motioned for him to put her in the crib, which Peter did. But he also detected something odd in Olivia's expression.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly.

She got out of the rocking chair so she could look down at their daughter. "It's nothing. My stepfather would call me princess sometimes."

Peter's hand immediately went up to her cheek. "Sorry, I'll remember not to use that."

"No, I like it when you do it," she assured him. "You're not a condescending asshole."

"Thanks, hon," he moved his hand to her shoulder farthest from him and stepped closer to her, wanting to rest his head on hers.

But she turned before he could and looked him straight in the eye. "Just don't die."

"I wasn't planning on it," he promised. "At least, not until she's forty."

"You're going to actually have to take care of yourself to make it that far," Olivia pointed out.

Peter thought about it for a second. When he spoke, his voice was sad. "No more eating horribly?"

"No more eating horribly."

"Okay," he said. "I'll stay away from the fried, greasy foods. As long as you stay healthy, too."

Now it was Olivia's turn to be sad. "I can't start drinking again?"

"Not like you used to, Little Miss Hard Liquor."

"Alright," Olivia agreed with a sigh. "I guess it's worth it, if we'll be there to beat the shit out of anyone who ever tries to hurt her."

"With that grip, she'll crush their skull in for us," Peter said, smiling at his little girl. She had already fallen asleep, oblivious to the incredibly sweet things her mother and father were saying. The two shifted closer together as they watched her small tummy rise and fall, Olivia's head coming to rest on Peter's shoulder and his above hers.

Peter slid his hand from Olivia's shoulder down to her hip, lightly squeezing the little bit of extra flesh she still had from the pregnancy.

"I have to get rid of that," Olivia grumbled. "I want to be back in the field already."

"Am I going to get to enjoy it?" Peter asked, trying to sound innocent.

Olivia lifted her head and looked between him and their daughter. Her mouth quirked in a way he hadn't seen in a little while and she held up her hand. "Come on." She led him to their bedroom, making sure the baby monitor was on and closing the door behind them with her mind. "Let's see if she gives us an hour."

She gave them three.


	16. Birthday

"I hate their names," Lincoln declared.

"You can't hate their names," Peter argued. "A father can't hate their kids' names."

"Well, I do," Lincoln insisted. "If they were by themselves, the names would be fine. But together, it's too cutesy. They're going to be terrorized if we send them to the same school."

"You'd send them to different schools?"

"Well, I can't change their names! They're attached to them for some reason."

"You think?" Peter asked sarcastically. "Come on, I'm sure they won't be picked on. It's not too bad."

"Really? You don't think Jeremy and Jenny are bad?"

"The kids at school won't even notice."

"No, they will. Kids are terrible, they make fun of everything. And I'm the one who is going to get in trouble for punching a five year old."

Peter laughed. "I can't wait to hear about the PTA meetings."

"I already have enemies at Jeremy's preschool," Lincoln admitted, a little ashamed but secretly a little proud. "It's kind of weird, I've never really had enemies before."

"But he brings out the protective side of you?" Peter suggested. "I know how you feel. I never thought I could hate a toddler until some little bitch got sand in Lizzie's eyes at the park. She was lucky I didn't have my gun."

"Don't make me take that gun away, Bishop," came a new voice from behind them. Peter and Lincoln whipped around.

"Sorry, sir," Peter said. "That was a tasteless joke."

"Yes, it was," Broyles agreed.

"I don't want to punch kids," Lincoln added quickly.

Their boss raised his eyebrows, evidently not having heard that part of the conversation. "That's good to know, Agent."

"Uh, sir, want a beer?" Peter offered.

"No, thanks," Broyles's eyes scanned the kitchen, taking in the barrage of Disney princess and pink decorations. The living room and bathroom were just as bad. "Did you and Dunham do this?"

"No," Peter grinned at the thought. "Walter and Ella surprised us with it. As you can guess, Olivia and I aren't really into pink streamers."

"Well, I hope Lizzie likes it," Broyles said. "I'm going to get myself some chili cheese dip. You two may continue your discussion about injuring children."

"Sir, really-" Lincoln started.

Broyles held up a hand. "It's okay. I once stole candy from a little girl because she wouldn't share with my son."

He walked away, towards the snack table. Lincoln leaned toward Peter and whispered, "Dude, that is cold. I'd never actually steal from a kid."

Peter patted his back. "Just wait until they won't share with Jeremy or Jenny."

The doorbell rang and Peter hurried to greet whoever was there. It was Astrid, and she carrying two large boxes that were about half the size of her.

"Hey Proud Papa!" she said happily, trying to keep her head above the boxes. "Mind grabbing one of these? That's Lizzie's present on top and the bottom one is the cake."

Peter lifted the bottom box out of her hands and let her grab the lighter one off of it. Once she did he got a good look at the cake through the plastic window on top. She had decorated it with all sorts of pink, green, and purple frosting as well as images from the Princess and the Frog. "Astrid, you're amazing. Should I put the cake in the fridge?"

"Freezer. There's layers of fudge and ice cream in there."

"Okay, you're more than amazing," Peter amended as he carefully turned to bring the cake through the doorway. "We've been putting the gifts next to the TV, if you want to add it to the pile."

"Will do," Astrid said. Peter headed back to the kitchen and she headed into the living room, where Olivia and Rachel were watching their young children play on the floor.

As soon as Lizzie saw Astrid she forgot all about her cousins. She raised her chubby little arms and cried "Astry!"

"Hey there, birthday girl!" Astrid put down the present and picked her up, careful not to scrunch up her white party dress. Lizzie was not as courteous, her hands immediately reached to pull at Astrid's hair.

"Do you want anything to drink, Astrid?" Olivia asked, trying to be a good host. But Jenny didn't care about the party and took that moment to jump on Olivia's knees to show her the doll she was playing with.

"You play with your niece," Astrid told her. "I'll get myself something." She headed into the kitchen, still carrying Lizzie. Broyles nodded at her in greeting from where he stood against the wall, munching on Fritos lathered in chili cheese dip. Peter and Lincoln were now sitting at the kitchen island, sipping their beers.

"Hey Astrid," Lincoln said as she walked past them.

"Hey," Astrid replied. She pulled a can of Wild Cherry Pepsi out of the fridge and put it on the counter so she could open it with one hand. "How does it feel being an official adoptive father?"

"Great," Lincoln told her.

"He hates their names though. Isn't that awful?" Peter prompted, hoping she would join in on giving Lincoln a hard time.

"No, their names are awful," Astrid said, disappointing him.. "Though I didn't really approve of your choice in names either, Peter."

"What do you mean? Elizabeth is a beautiful name and it honors my mothers."

"It's a beautiful name, but during high school I did filing in a doctor's office," she told Peter. "Similar and matching names became the bane of my existence. Everyone who wants to name their kid after them should think about the little people who are going to have to deal with it." Astrid looked at Lizzie and, to the little girl's delight, gave her a little bounce. "You don't want to be Elizabeth Number Two, do you?" Lizzie shook her head.

This time, Lincoln patted Peter's back. "Astrid's right. People are going to hate your kid for her name more than they'll hate my kids."

Peter glared at him and threateningly said, "I can kill you." Which only succeeded in making Lizzie giggle. She already found her father's serious voice nothing but funny.

"Are Walter and Ella here?" Astrid asked, changing the subject.

"They're upstairs working on something," Lincoln said.

"That can't be- Ouch!" she cried, almost dropping her WCP. She put down the can and wrestled Lizzie's hand away from her hair. "You pulled too hard, Lizzie, too hard!"

Peter took his daughter out of Astrid's arms and chastised her. "No more playing with Aunt Astrid for you."

Lizzie pouted. Her chin quivered and her eyes, which unlike her father's had started out blue and just recently turned green, looked ready to fill with tears. Peter had to force himself to ignore it.

"Hello!" Lincoln's voice called out from the foyer. The owner of the voice, the other Lincoln, had let himself in with Henry, Charlie, and the elder Elizabeth Bishop.

"Hey," called out several people in response.

Elizabeth immediately rushed over to Lizzie, as she very rarely got a chance to see her only granddaughter. Peter just happened to be there as well, so she gave him a hug as she took the child. The others followed her into the kitchen at a more reasonable pace. Henry gave Peter a hug as well and then dashed into the living room, knowing where the toys were.

"Henry was an excellent name choice," Astrid said after the round of hugs and handshakes. "Common, but not too common, and named after an important person in Liv's life who doesn't share the surname."

"Um, yes?" the other Lincoln said, unaware of the previous conversation.

"We were discussing whether or not we like our kids' names," our Lincoln explained. "What do you think of your recent additions' names?"

"He thinks they're going to be made fun of for both having names that go together," Peter told him, motioning to our Lincoln.

"Really?" the other Lincoln said, eyebrows raised. "Lincoln Lee doesn't like alliteration?"

"The kids I went to school with didn't," our Lincoln mumbled, looking down and busying himself by cleaning his glasses.

There were a few murmurs of sincere and mock pity in response to that admission.

"Just be glad they weren't named Sarah or Tommy," Charlie recommended, which made both Lincolns suddenly very grateful.

Elizabeth stayed in the kitchen, re-doing the plastic white barrettes that kept Lizzie's wispy dark curls out of her face while she talked to Peter. But the others headed into the living room to greet the Dunham sisters and sit down for some more typical party small talk. After they took their seats they noticed Henry hadn't moved further into the room than the edge of the carpet. He was standing there staring at the two kids who were playing with Lizzie's vast toy collection.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Charlie asked him. Henry looked at Charlie and Lincoln with a troubled expression on his face and pointed at Jenny and Jeremy. "Jeremy and Jenna are supposed to be with Mommy."

The other Lincoln slid off the couch and knelt on one knee in front of his son. The other adults listened while he tried to explain. "Remember when we talked about there being two universes? These two aren't the Jeremy and Jenna we left at home. They're Jeremy and Jenny, from this universe."

Henry's little eyebrows stayed furrowed, the indent he had inherited from Peter quite prominent. So Lincoln went on, "There's different versions of lots of people. That's how I'm Lincoln and there's another Lincoln right there in the armchair."

"But your name is Daddy," Henry said, even more confused. To his great dismay all the adults laughed.

"You really should take that kid out more," Charlie quipped.

Lincoln smirked. He was long past getting insulted whenever Charlie tried to get a rise out of him by criticizing his parenting skills. Instead he simply warned him over his shoulder with "I'm going to tell Liv you said that," and Charlie to shut up rather quickly.

Luckily for Lincoln, he didn't have to keep trying to explain difficult things to Henry. The little boy got very excited and forgot all about the issues of duplicates when Walter and Ella came bounding down the stairs.

"Elvira and I made games!" Walter happily announced, holding up a poster that had a colorful painting of Gene below _Pin the Tail on the Cow!_ spelled out in glitter.

Lizzie and Jenny were both too young for the games, so Peter and her Lincoln had to get on their knees and guide them/do everything themselves. But all the kids loved it and didn't even cry when they lost, possibly because Walter gave them Red Vines no matter what.

The kids also loved when they ate pizza, and they were absolutely ecstatic when Peter carried the cake into the dining room. He placed it in front of Lizzie, who stared at the Princess Tiana frosting and lit up frog candle from her spot on Walter's lap, her eyes wide with amazement.

Olivia stood next to Broyles against the wall, watching as the group sang to her daughter before they let the little ones start their sugar frenzy.

"It's a pretty nice family that you got there," Broyles said, observing Peter help Lizzie blow out the candle. Olivia nodded, mostly to herself since he wasn't looking at her.

"I'm going to need another maternity leave," she informed him. Before he could ask she added, "Peter knows before you, this time."

"Congratulations, Dunham," Broyles said, smiling slightly. Together they watched the sweet scene of Walter teaching his granddaughter how to lick the frosting off the bottom of the candle. Lizzie eagerly took the candle in her own hands and licked all over it. When all the frosting was gone, she stared at the wick until it suddenly the flame reignited.

Broyles clasped Olivia's shoulder. "I think you're going to have your hands full."


	17. Vomit

"Daddy."

At first Peter thought the tiny voice was an oddly realistic part of his dream, but then a small hand poked the back of his shoulder and the voice repeated itself. For a second he considered feigning sleep until his daughter gave up and went around to Olivia's side of the bed. But his good side won and he rolled over, his bleary eyes falling on five year-old Lizzie.

There was vomit all down her front.

Now Peter really wished he had let her wake up Olivia. He felt a bit guilty, as she needed her sleep more than he did, especially after all those late nights when she refused to give up on a case and he simply couldn't keep his eyes open. But still, she could perform with little sleep and she was much better with vomit.

"I'm sick," Lizzie told him as he groggily sat up.

"I can see that," he muttered in response. He led her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. When he turned on the light he found it was worse than he imagined. Vomit was all over her Lion King pajamas and in her long curly hair.

Lizzie simply held up her arms so he could deal with her shirt and asked, "Can I sleep with you and Mommy? I threw up in my bed."

Peter sighed and peeled off her shirt. This night was going to be awesome. "You can if you promise not to throw up again."

"I promise!" Lizzie swore, holding up her pinkie finger. Peter bent his own pinkie around hers and shook it, praying there would be a way for her to actually keep that promise.

"You think you can rinse out your hair while I go clean your room?" he asked.

"I can do it," Lizzie said firmly, eager to prove herself. She climbed the small step stool and shoved her head under the faucet, her little fingers working hard to get the vomit out.

Peter quickly collected the soiled sheets and brought them to the laundry room with Lizzie's pajamas. Then he grabbed one of his clean t-shirts and a towel before heading back into the bathroom to be greeted by yet another mess.

Luckily, this mess smelled nicely of citrus. Lizzie had turned the water on full blast and pulled out a bottle of her favorite shampoo, most of which was now in her hair. Peter rushed over quickly, knowing that if he didn't prevent her from getting the shampoo in her eyes he'd have a crying sick kid on his hands.

His intervention worked and soon Lizzie was wearing his shirt, free of soap and vomit. The towel, after being used to dry her off, was left on the floor so no one slipped on the water that had sprayed everywhere. Peter let Lizzie stay in their room after she pinkie promised that if she did have to throw up again she would do so in the garbage bin he placed next to the bed. As soon as they laid down, Peter on his left side and his right arm on his daughter, he fell back asleep.

Olivia woke up, naturally, right before her alarm. At first the absence of the weight of Peter's arm concerned her, but she smiled when she turned to see her husband's attention had been stolen away by the young brunette. They were sleeping so peacefully, nestled together, it was a shame that the alarm had to go off and wake them. Though their collective grumblings were cute, too.

"Vomit," was all Peter said when he rolled over and saw Olivia looking at them.

"You threw up?" she asked Lizzie, who climbed right over her father into her arms.

"I threw up twice!" Lizzie told her mother proudly.

"What?" Peter asked, confused. Then he realized there was a foul smell coming from the garbage next to him. "Good job on not waking me up," he told her, just as proud. "You took care of it all by yourself."

"Yeah, that's great," Olivia agreed, far from sincere. "Do you still feel sick?"

"Uh-huh," Lizzie nodded.

"Take her downstairs," Olivia said, handing her over to Peter. "Get her something to drink, I don't want her to get dehydrated. I'll meet you down there in a minute."

Peter followed her orders and Olivia headed to their son's room. She found him sitting patiently in his bed, a pacifier in his mouth, seemingly undisturbed that he had gotten sick all over the place.

"Aw, Charlie..." she sighed, picking him up.

She cleaned him up quickly and headed downstairs to find Lizzie curled up against Walter on the couch, resting her head on his leg as they watched Spongebob.

"Give me Walter Jr.!" Walter cried when he saw Olivia coming down the stairs. "Bring him here!"

"His name is Charlie," Olivia stated sharply. She immediately regretted her tone, so she added "We don't want to call him by his middle name, Dad," to assuage him.

"Yes, yes, I know, dear," Walter said absentmindedly as he took Charlie and placed him against his other side.

Peter was flattening ginger ale and making toast in the kitchen when Olivia came in to get her own breakfast. "Where'd he get that pacifier?" he asked, having spotted Olivia bringing Charlie down.

"I don't know, but I'm not going to wrestle it away from him today."

"That's fine, but you're paying the orthodontist."

"He's sick, Peter," she snapped. It was days like these when Peter's nonchalance got on her nerves. She couldn't stand it when the kids were sick. Between everything they could have inherited and the amount of enemies their parents had, every illness down with was potentially much worse than the flu- as if the flu wasn't bad enough.

"Hey, hon, I was just joking," Peter said, putting down the spoon he was using to stir the pop so he could her to him with both arms. "Walter checked Lizzie over and collected samples to study as soon as we get to the lab. He'll do the same with Charlie. If it's anything serious, we'll take care of it."

Olivia sighed and rested her forehead against him, just for a minute. "I can't believe I slept through it."

"You needed your sleep."

"I don't care. Next time wake me up." He didn't argue, so she let her head stay on his shoulder for a minute more. "One of us is going to have to stay home. We can't leave them with the babysitter like this."

Peter picked the spoon back up and worked on the ginger ale with the arm she wasn't resting against. "What's worse: our job or pukey kids?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess it depends on whether or not a head explodes today."

"Giant parasites sicken me more than brains on the floor," he told her. "But it's up to you to decide which one of us stays home. You're the boss."

"Dammit!" she exclaimed quietly, keeping her voice low so Lizzie didn't start chanting swearwords again. "I have meetings I can't miss."

"Sorry, hon," Peter said, not sorry at all but still giving her shoulder a brief squeeze. "You shouldn't have worked so hard and gotten promoted."

"You'll keep me updated?"

"Of course," Peter soothed her. "I'll text you every time they eat, drink, or throw up."

"And check their temperatures regularly," she added. "Don't be afraid to take them to the hospital if they get worse. It's probably just a 24-hour virus, but you can't be too careful."

"Don't worry," he reminded her, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Okay," Olivia said, mostly to ready herself before standing straight and getting into business mode. She grabbed some toast and some coffee and headed back upstairs, giving Walter a 20 minute warning as she did so.

Peter put two cups of flat pop and the remaining toast on the coffee table, so the kids had easy access when they wanted to try and keep something down. Then he sat in the spot Walter had vacated.

By the time Olivia and Walter were ready to go, Peter was snoozing on the couch with both kids curled into his sides. In that moment, Olivia hated him for finding it so easy to relax when she was plagued with worry. But instead of kicking him, she kissed three foreheads and hurried out the door.

* * *

><p>AN: I do wonder how Peter and Olivia would react in this situation. Personally, I'd take dead bodies over vomit.<p>

Niv: Thank you for your reviews! But this fic is far from the simple, amazing beauty of SBP. It's also far from the best of Fringe fanfiction. You should check out my Favorites page for a few examples.


	18. Dinner

Olivia had avoided looking at the clock at work, trying to keep the hope of getting home in time for dinner alive. But since it was late summer, she knew she had missed it as soon as she walked outside and saw the dark sky. At least she would see the kids before they went to bed. This time. She drove home quickly and soon opened her front door.

"I'm home!" she called out from the foyer as she slid out of her shoes. She heard a mumbled greeting and aliens exploding in response, so she walked to the breakfast nook turned computer area to investigate. She found Charlie there, tapping the screen in different configurations to kill his video game enemies.

"How was school?" she asked.

"Okay," he responded, still intent on his game.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, leaning even closer towards the monitor as the battle intensified.

Olivia ruffled her son's shaggy dirty blond hair. "Fifteen more minutes and then give your eyes a rest, okay?"

"Mm-hmm," he agreed noncommittally. He often responded positively to placate her, hoping she would walk away and then forget what she had told him to do. It never worked, but it was cute that he tried. She gave the top of his head a kiss and headed up the stairs, walking past dozens of family pictures. The most recent potrait placed on the wall was of a proud, smiling Ella in a cap and gown.

Olivia paused in the doorway of her daughter's room. Lizzie was sprawled out on her bed reading and looked up when she noticed someone was watching her. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi," Olivia replied, stepping in and sitting next to her on the bed. She glanced at the advanced science material her daughter was reading. "You didn't get homework on your first day, did you?"

"No, I was bored and found this on Dad's bookshelf," Lizzie explained. She gave Olivia a pleading look. "Can you make Charlie get off the computer? Or let me use one of your laptops?"

"I told him he can have fifteen more minutes, so just be patient a little longer," Olivia said with a smile. They made the kids share the computer, believing the little bit of suffering would help shape their character (though Walter constantly spoiled them with his Massive Dynamic funds anyway). As for the request for one of their laptops, Olivia didn't think was worthy of an answer. Lizzie knew it was one of the top rules of the house that the kids weren't allowed anywhere near their parents' work files.

Lizzie put the book down and rolled onto her back. "Mom, can I ask you something without you getting insulted?"

This could not be good. Olivia steeled herself for all possibilities, thinking it could be about anything from their abilities to the topic of sex to Lizzie declaring pantsuits aren't cool. She decided to stay honest and say, "I'll try not to, but it depends on what it is."

"Can you stop calling me Lizzie? I want to go by Eliza now."

Olivia's first reaction was relief. But then she couldn't help but wonder, "Why?"

"There's a lot of Liz's in my middle school already," Lizzie said, scrunching up her lightly freckled nose in disgust. "I want something more unique and beautiful, so I told all my teachers I go by Eliza."

"I think you're beautiful and unique already," Olivia told her, brushing one of her daughter's long brown curls away from her face. Li-Eliza simply rolled her eyes. "Okay, Eliza, I'll try to remember," she promised, though the new nickname felt weird to her. "Where's your father and Walter?"

"I think Dad is working in your room," Eliza informed her. "And Grandpa was doing a puzzle in the basement playroom."

"I'll let you get back to reading," Olivia said, pressing her lips to her daughter's hairline before Eliza rolled back over with an exaggerated sigh.

Olivia walked down the hall to her and Peter's bedroom. Sure enough, her husband was sitting at the desk they shared, working on his most recent case report.

"Hey," he said as she came in, twirling around in the spinning chair to look at her.

"Hey," she said back, going to her dresser to change out of her work clothes "Did Lizzie tell you she wants to go by Eliza now?"

"Yeah, over dinner."

"I don't know how I feel about it," Olivia admitted. "Do you think it's the start of her doing everything contrary to what we say, just because she can?"

Peter stood up and then leaned against the desk, watching as she shimmied out of her skirt. "I don't think she's becoming a spiteful teenager yet," he shuddered at the thought of his little girl, who he got along with so well, starting to resent their love and protection already. "I actually think it's beautiful."

"Beautiful?" she raised an eyebrow at his word choice before turning and grabbing a pair of yoga pants.

"When I was a kid, all I wanted was to fit in, be normal," he told her. Olivia nodded, having felt the same way when she was young. "But our daughter fits in so well, she's feeling the need to make herself stand out."

Olivia felt her mouth quirk up. "How did we end up with a normal, happy kid?"

"I have no idea," Peter said with a grin.

But then he had to move the discussion on to one of the things that made them abnormal. "How was the interrogation?"

"Useless," she said with an aggravated sigh as she started taking off her stiff blouse.

"Useless?"

"He repeated the same useless crap as every other Moreau follower we've arrested," she grumbled as she attacked the buttons. "Same old religious fanaticism bullshit about the connection of universes dooming us all. So I missed dinner for something that got us nowhere."

"We'll get that sick bastard Moreau eventually. We always do," Peter reassured her. "And there's risotto in the fridge for you."

Olivia finished pulling on a comfortable sweatshirt and gave him a peck on the side of the mouth. "Thank you."

"I do my best to be a good little housewife," he quipped.

"A good housewife wouldn't have work to do," she told him, her hand motioning toward his laptop. "Are you almost done?"

"Just one more page to fill out."

"When you finish, come down and talk to me while I eat."

"Will do, boss."

"Okay, I have to go get Charlie away from the computer," Olivia started to hurry back downstairs, but paused in the doorway. She looked over her shoulder and spoke to him in a hushed version of her boss voice. "That report better be in my inbox soon, or you're not getting lucky for a long time."

Olivia bound down the stairs to get food and drag her son off the computer, her mood lifting in the routine of family life others would find tiresome.

Peter quickly finished his report on the recent bombing Moreau claimed responsibility for and emailed it to Olivia in less than five minutes. And for good measure, before he went to the kitchen he sent her a message about sexual harassment.

* * *

><p>AN: While even before I started reading Fringe fan fiction I thought Peter and Olivia should name their kids Elizabeth and Charlie (and I think the name Henry confirms Olivia Dunhams are the type to honor people like that), I was inspired to have them call their potential daughter Eliza by Elialys and her magnificently tragic speculation piece <em>In Her Eyes. <em>Beautiful name, and a beautiful piece.


	19. Speech Part One

Olivia Dunham was used to challenges. Challenges like solving horrific murder cases, disarming explosives with her mind, being married and having two kids, she had met and rose above them all. But speaking in front of a room full of the politically minded rich and powerful was unlike anything she had done before. She scanned her audience and doubted any of them were even carrying a weapon, a thought she found oddly discomforting.

But Broyles was a friend and she truly believed he would do great things, so she had agreed to speak at his campaign fundraiser. Very few people knew how truly important she was (with her abilities and her role in the universes' connection), but her name had been in the papers enough that everyone in the room knew her as the trustworthy head of Fringe Division and former subordinate of the candidate.

Olivia received an encouraging smile from Nina, who was sitting front-row-center. Nina had offered the use of Massive Dynamics's large conference room and practically organized everything in the name of democracy (though Olivia suspected many of the people in front of her would support whoever Nina Sharp told them to without any parties or speeches).

"Some of you may understand how awkward this is for me," Olivia said into the mic, starting with the joke the speechwriters had suggested. "Not only am I new to such political functions, but I also have to admit I respect my old boss when he's right here in the room with me." That elicited a few chuckles and she started describing Broyles' merits.

Peter sat behind her on the stage, smirking as he listened to her do well. He probably was the only one who knew she was nervous, her fidgeting hands hidden from all other views by the podium. Maybe he could convince her to stay in New York for a little longer, maybe relax with some drinks tonight. Ella had already agreed to pick up the kids from their after school activities if they didn't make it home in time.

"I soon learned that Broyles was fiercely loyal, but with reason," Olivia continued. "He always stands by those he believed in, but if it becomes evident that his trust is misplaced, he is willing to admit his mistake. A rare but honorable ability for a politi-"

For a split second, Peter didn't know why Olivia had suddenly stopped in the middle of a word. And then her knees gave out. He sprang out of his chair, reaching her just after she slumped to the ground. At first he could find nothing wrong with her, but as he lifted her into his arms, her head rolled back to expose a dark red hole in her neck.

A bullet wound.

Peter stared, his brain no longer able to process anything but a memory that came to his mind. Olivia, beautiful, in a long black dress and red lipstick, just as admirable handling of a gun. She shot a terrorist straight through the neck, severing the spinal cord so he couldn't press a detonator he held in his hand.

_Don't give her the chance to use her abilities._

He wasn't sure if time sped up or if it slowed down. He felt someone grab him and hustle them off the stage. He didn't bother to look, but had the vague idea that it was Broyles's hands that pushed him into an elevator. A voice shouted something about a lock down as the doors closed. Someone must have pressed a button because the elevator started moving upward.

Peter touched Olivia's neck, just inches from the wound. She still felt warm, but there was no pulse.

"Peter?" a female voice asked. The elevator had stopped without him noticing. He didn't respond. He couldn't take his eyes away from Olivia. He had nuzzled her neck just that morning while she complained about their new "technologically advanced" dishwasher. He had wanted to distract her, but it didn't work. So he tried to show her how to use the dishwasher, but she had grown frustrated and washed the breakfast dishes by hand.

He had been annoyed at the time. It was very rare for them to both have the morning off and even rarer for them to have the house to themselves. He had cooked a real breakfast, hoping they would take advantage of the situation. And she wanted to talk about appliances.

Her vocal cords won't work now, but he wishes she would complain.

Small, soft hands placed themselves against his back and his elbow to lead him out of the elevator. He let them bring him down a hallway and into a lab.

Once in the lab caring but calloused hands touched his face. Walter's hands. He knew them well. "Son, you should put her down now," he said in his rare soft, understanding voice. Peter did as he was told and gently laid Olivia on the metal examining table.

Her head lolled to the side, aiming her eyes towards his. But she wasn't looking at him. It wasn't her. She wasn't there.

He dragged his gaze away from her for the first time, not strong enough to maintain eye contact with cold green orbs that held no light.

His eyes fell on a dark stain on his suit jacket. There had been no heartbeat to send blood spurting out of the wound, but some must have oozed onto his shoulder and down his sleeve while he carried her.

"Peter, do you want to get cleaned up?"

His gaze moved to the owner of the gentle hands that had led him here. Astrid. He nodded, grateful for a reason to get away from Olivia's eyes as well as for other people taking charge (who's in charge of him if Olivia is gone?).

Astrid led him back down the hall to a break room. It was obvious that Walter used it often, the counters were full of Red Vines and a variety of sugary cereals. Peter briefly considered smashing the happy little cardboard mascots. But when Astrid left to return to Walter's side, he decided on viciously scrubbing his jacket in the sink.

As he peeled off the finely-woven wool and twisted it under the running water, an image of another time he tried to wash away blood in a break room came to mind. Olivia had watched him then, trying to control her breathing and her panic as he did the same. The memory brought something sudden, raw, and painful to his chest.

He wrenched the ruined clothing out of the sink, his wedding ring scrapping against the steel as he did so. He threw the jacket on the floor and collapsed into one of the uncomfortable metal chairs that were placed around the break room table.

His ring glinted under the fluorescent lights. He squeezed his fist tightly closed, letting the gold dig into his fingers. Usually he forgot the jewelry was even there, but there had been a few dire moments on the job when he had looked at it and found comfort. Now seeing it only caused another horrible pang in his chest.

After everything they had been through, everything they had seen, he should have been prepared for this. But they had been _happy_. They had relaxed into the family life they had always wanted, forgetting what they had both known so well before they had finally gotten together: Tragedy is always around the corner.

She had lived without him for a while. Lived alone, knowing he was missing from the world. Was this how it felt for her? He had felt grief, he knew grief, but there was more to this feeling than just that. This all felt wrong, more wrong than the usual meaninglessness of death. Everything in the whole world was wrong and it would never be right again. Jesus, there hadn't even been enough time for it to sink in yet and already he would gladly cease to exist.

But now he had the kids to think about. Fuck.

Even worse than him going through this was Eliza and Charlie going through this.

He selfishly wanted to have them with him. Maybe the combination of their presence and seeing some of Olivia's features still alive and moving would lessen the pain.

He also, selfishly, wanted to try and fill the Olivia-sized hole inside of him with vodka. Maybe if he drank her weight in it he would feel better. How painful is death by alcohol poisoning?

But he needed to be a father. He had three children to take care of, and two of them would need him now more than ever. He needed to protect them. He needed to make sure that they didn't end up dealing with grief the way he dealt with his mother's suicide, the way he wanted to now. They were smarter than him, smart enough not to run away or turn to the liquor cabinet, but who could recover from this loss? He needed to be strong. They needed a support system. They needed someone to salvage the little bit of their childhoods that could still be salvaged.

They needed Olivia. He needed Olivia.

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and Astrid walked in quietly. When she spoke, it sounded like it was just another work update, like she had practiced.

"Broyles called. They caught the shooter. It was Moreau, he had some advanced weapon that was undetectable even to our guard and Massive Dynamic's security. Two agents have been sent to the hospital, but they should be all right. They're not letting anyone else leave until everyone in the building has been questioned, but so far no one seems to be aware of what exactly happened. He warned us to be on alert. If there are any accomplices, they don't know Olivia's condition and may act rashly to ensure a successful mission."

There was no emotional reaction on Peter's face.

"Moreau, a wanted fugitive, waltzed into Massive Dynamic and shot my wife," he stated, trying to organize this information. He hoped Broyles would pull some strings and give him the opportunity to painfully rearrange Moreau's face. It would take a lot of effort not to kill the bastard. Anger had yet to completely consume him, but he could feel it coming.

Peter stared at his suit jacket, bunched up and sopping on the floor. Some of the water dripping off it was tinted red. Red that belonged elsewhere. He had to stopped staring at it. His eyes fell on Astrid, who hadn't left after giving her update and stood just inside the door.

"I can't," she said as explanation. "I can't be in there."

"What's he doing?" Peter asked, though he found he was beyond caring what Walter got himself into.

"I think he..." she paused and debated continuing. But Peter and Olivia always preferred to have the truth, no matter what pain it caused them, so she went on. "I think he wants to sew her up himself."

Peter attempted a half-hearted shrug. "Whatever makes him feel better."

"He keeps saying her can fix her," she said softly. "And the way he says it, like if he just gets rid of the bullet hole everything will be all right . . . . He has assistants. I don't have to be there."

"I envy his ability to be insane," he admitted. "St. Claire's would be preferable to going home and telling the kids."

"Oh god," Astrid exclaimed miserably as she thought of Eliza and Charlie. "Do you want one of us to talk to them first?"

"No, they should hear it from me." Her offering was a perfect example of how sweet and selfless Astrid could be, but it was just one more difficult thing that he would have to do. He was still good at facing terrible situations, right?

As if it could hear his thoughts, his phone started buzzing.

"It's Charlie," he said to Astrid before bringing the phone up to his ear. Her hands clenched in her lap as she listened. "Hello?"

"Hey Dad," Charlie cheerfully said. "Are you coming to my soccer game today?"

"Uh, no, I don't think I'll be home on time," Peter told him. It suddenly was taking a lot of effort to keep his voice from cracking, despite his many, many years of practice as a conman and for the FBI.

"Good," was his son's response. "Well, not good, but Tommy asked if I could go out for pizza after with his family. Can I go?"

"It's alright with me, but call Ella. She's supposed to pick you and Liza up."

"Okay Dad, love ya, see you tonight," Charlie said in a rush.

Peter quickly responded with a "Love ya,' but the line was already dead.

He slipped the phone back into his pants pocket. Somehow, guilt for missing his son's soccer game added itself to the myriad of emotions Peter was feeling. But he had successfully made it through the conversation and put of the inevitable. Charlie would have a few hours of cheerful obliviousness before he learned what it's like to lose a mother, so there was also some relief. "Thank god he didn't bring up Olivia."

Astrid tried to smile, but it didn't really work.

"Do you know how long I should keep them out of school?" he asked. "And they're both on soccer teams. I don't know if keeping them to a routine or giving them time to try and deal with it at home would be better."

"I think everyone is different," she said, grateful that he was rationally planning ahead. She was already on the verge of breaking down, but was desperate not to do so in Massive Dynamic. And she needed to be strong for Peter, too. But if he, a man she considered to be her snarky but protective older brother, loss control, she wouldn't stand a chance.

"I should look into counselling, too. It could be good for them."

Astrid was about to respond positively when there was a rapid knock on the door.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the abrupt end. Part Two should be coming soon, but I'm not going to promise a specific date since my classes started. Definitely less than a week though.<p>

And... yeah, took a dark turn there. This is the part that I don't really wish for but needed to get out of my head.


	20. Speech Part Two: the Speechening

Nina Sharp was the classiest and most consistently well-dressed person Peter had ever met. But when she stepped in after announcing herself with the rapid knocks, she appeared absolutely _frazzled_. Her bright hair was in disarray, her black shirt was off-center, her eyes kept darting around the room and her fingers picked at her gloves. If it was possible for Peter to be more unsettled than he already was, seeing her this way would have done it.

"I have no idea how this happened," she announced in a shadow of her authoritative voice, finally fixing her eyes on him. "If there is anything I can do, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

For a brief second Peter imagined a parasite somehow finding its way into Moreau's food, eating his insides and then bursting out of his neck. Though he didn't doubt Nina could and would (gladly) arrange for that to happen, it fell into the category of _Things Olivia Dunham Spent Her Life Trying to Prevent_, so he declined her offer with a slight shake of his head.

"You have my number," Nina reminded him in case he changed his mind. "I should go back downstairs and help Phillip with crowd control."

She started to depart, but wavered. She looked back at Peter and Astrid, apparently having an inner debate. After a few more seconds of thought, she crossed the short distance and pulled Peter into a hug.

It was touching as well as awkward. She bent slightly when she grasped him, but since he was seated his face connected with a heavily perfumed shoulder. And then she let go of the man she had known since he was a boy and promptly walked out of the room, corporate and detached once more.

Astrid seemed more than a little disturbed, but didn't say anything.

They both stayed silent. There was nothing to say and no use trying to pretend there was. Their thoughts occasionally went to the lab down the hall, or to the conference room, or to what would have to be done in the next few days, but all they really could do was wait for the lockdown to end so they could take the body back to Boston.

Peter was still unsure of the passage of time. It may have been a minute or an hour later when Brandon suddenly flew in panting.

"I think you guys should come see this," he gasped, leaning in with one hand still on the doorknob. "Peter, your dad is... doing something weird."

Despite having no desire to follow him, both Peter and Astrid hurried after Brandon down the hall.

The first thing they noticed when the burst into the lab was a machine that looked like an old giant computer. Walter was delicately tuning dials on one of the sides. The opposite end had a tangle of wires coming out of it, wires that were all connected to electrodes that had been placed all over Olivia's body.

Disgust wrenched at Peter's gut. "Walter, what the hell is going on here?"

"Oh, Peter!" Walter cried. He seemed to be in an positively delightful mood. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"The honors? What honors?"

"Bringing Olivia back from the dead, of course!"

For a split second all thought left Peter's mind. But then a swell of anger at Walter went though him, the likes of which he hadn't felt for almost two decades, and he couldn't stop himself from shouting. "You're experimenting on my wife, AGAIN? ISN'T HER DEATH ENOUGH FOR YOU TO STOP?"

Walter looked at him, completely surprised by his outburst. "It's not an experiment, son. I already tested all this out on Gene. I used Barrett's research - remember that case? It worked perfectly well."

"Walter, Barrett's technique was unsuccessful," Peter said through gritted teeth. "It temporarily regenerated the woman's body but it didn't bring back her soul. It may have worked on Gene, but that's because she's not human. She has no soul to bring back!"

Walter looked highly offended on behalf of his cow. "Gene most certainly does have a soul! In fact, I'm positive she does, I solved the problems in the technique by adding soul magnets! Do stop telling yourself she doesn't have a soul so you can eat burgers guilt free."

Peter's tense jaw suddenly went slack. "You slipped Olivia soul magnets?"

"Of course I did," Walter told him, as if it was the most obviously ordinary thing in the world. "She's my daughter-in-law! Did you expect me to sit idly by when I could ensure I would never outlive her?"

Peter pressed his palms against his head. He felt a horrible mix of despair, elation, and horror.

"I've also set it up for you, my grandchildren, and dear Asparagus here," Walter told him proudly. Astrid's eyes grew wide and he happily added, "You never suspected my milkshakes!"

Peter had to sit down. Years ago, he swore to himself that he would never play with the laws of science the way Walter had. But the thought of being able to defeat the deaths of his own children sobered him. And what harm could come from Olivia living a little longer? It would keep Eliza and Charlie's childhoods happy, keep him from becoming a hollow shell of a man, keep the Fringe Division well run. She was a benefit to the worlds. What could go wrong?

Despite having devoted most of his life to laws and science, images from scary movies came to Peter's mind. Old horror movies Eliza and her friends liked to watch and make fun of, where someone brought the deceased back to life and suddenly an actor in bad make-up was stumbling around pretending to kill people. After everything he had seen in Fringe Division, was that so far-fetched?

But it would be Olivia's soul. Even if it was in a drooling mass of stitched-together body parts, Olivia's soul would be irreproachable.

And she would want it, wouldn't she? It wouldn't be like the last time she had been slipped soul magnets, when Bell abducted her mind. She must want to return for her children, her sister, her nieces and nephew, him...

After a long moment, he put his hands down and raised his head. "Will there be any lasting effects?"

"What do you mean?" Walter asked.

"Will she be different? Or will it hurt?" Peter asked, his voice strained. "I don't want to drag her back here just for her to suffer."

"Belly was still the same," Walter argued. "Her cells will return to the state they were in before her untimely death. They will continue to function, multiply and die normally until she reaches old age. And I have found no evidence of the regeneration process being painful. It may be a while before her neck fully heals, but it shouldn't even hurt as much as her previous gunshot wounds."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"We can do it. On the condition that you never share this information with anyone. Destroy all your files on the process."

Walter looked at Brandon and his assistant. Peter had the sinking feeling that his condition came too late.

"Can I keep the files on cell regeneration in regards to people who are still alive?" Walter asked. "They've aided us in astounding advancements in the medical field."

"Yes," Peter decided. "As long as you get rid of everything that even mentions bringing back the dead. The world could fall into chaos with that information."

"And if someone does it wrong, it could start the zombie apocalypse," Brandon added.

"Oh, I do want to avoid that!" Walter said, his cheerful mood returning. "One of my biggest fears is being eaten. When Peter was a boy he used to hide in the dumb waiter from the monsters who craved his flesh."

"Thank you, Walter," Peter mumbled.

"Ah, but we should get to work. We're all in agreement not to share what is about to happen with anyone?" Walter asked the small group. They all nodded and he went on. "I'd make a contract, but then there would be evidence. Just know that if this information gets out to the public, you will no longer be welcome in Massive Dynamic and we will ensure that the remainder of your life will be miserable."

They all agreed on that as well. Walter made a few more adjustments to the machine and announced it was ready.

Peter, Astrid, Brandon, and the assistant stood a safe distance away.

"Is this a bad idea?" Peter asked quietly so Walter wouldn't hear.

"I'm not stopping you," Brandon told him.

"I'm not either," Astrid concurred. The assistant nodded.

"Son, are you ready?" Walter asked. Peter nodded his assent and Walter hit a switch on the machine.

A jolt passed through Olivia's body. Peter cringed, but it was over quickly. The room grew silent as everyone waited with bated breath.

And then she moved. Her breath hitched, her head rolling to the side. For a split second, Peter saw her open eyes. They were looking around now, but they were still empty. Soulless.

"Peter, the gong, quickly!" Walter ordered and Peter snapped out of the stare. He grabbed the wooden stick Walter had given him and hit the gong the assistant had brought from another department. It rang out. _Pwuuuushhhhhhh_.

Olivia blinked. The glint of life returned.

And then she gasped and started shuddering, her limbs going up and down in seizing movements.

Peter rushed forward, his hands going to her face. His heart skipped a beat when he felt her cold skin, but the warmth was returning. She looked at him, panicked, her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to breathe and say something.

"Don't try to speak, sweetheart," Peter said, trying to calm her. He checked the clear plastic hose connected to her nose. "Walter, is the oxygen running?"

"Yes, son, it is."

The others joined him in standing around the table. Olivia looked at them briefly before her eyes returned to Peter. Her limbs had stopped struggling, but her eyebrows were still raised in fear. Peter ran his hand through her hair to soothe her. "You just had an impromptu throat surgery," he explained.

"Agent Dunham, they tried to assassinate you!"

"Walter!" Astrid chided.

Olivia's lips curved upward in amusement at the usual lab dynamic, and in that moment Peter could believe it all had been a horrible nightmare. He let his forehead lightly rest on hers, their noses touching. She brought her hands to his face, and it was the way that her fingers slid over his cheeks that made him realize tears were there. But he didn't care, even with Walter beaming and Brandon looking on awkwardly. A desperately relieved laugh escaped him as he felt her breath on his chin.

Placing a soft kiss just below her ear, he whispered, "I think you're an awful public speaker."

Olivia Dunham had met, and defeated, death.


	21. Game Night

"I never thought I would see the day."

"I told you I wanted to retire over a decade ago," Peter reminded his former boss as they shook hands. "Thankfully your replacement is more sympathetic to people who saved two universes."

"And is your wife," Broyles pointed out. He looked across the room to Olivia, who was chatting with Lincoln and Astrid. "I always assumed you would stay in the Division, waiting for Dunham to throw in the towel until you died of old age."

"I might have," Peter admitted. "But we need someone at home. I'm not paying some stranger to be Walter's caregiver."

Broyles nodded his understanding. "How has he been doing?"

"The last stroke was pretty bad, but as soon as he could talk he started arguing with me, wanting to go to his lab," he paused and decided to bring up positives. "Early retirement should be good though. I'll see the kids a lot more. And I don't have worry too much about watching Olivia's back. She hasn't been too keen on going into the field since. . ."

"The attempt on her life," Broyles offered. He had never been told exactly what had happened in that Massive Dynamic lab, but Peter was pretty sure he knew Olivia had been dead for part of it. He wasn't the only one, either. Despite everyone involved keeping their vows of secrecy, it was becoming common practice for Fringe agents to have Alive-Again clauses in their Living Wills. Luckily, no death had occurred to test Peter's resolve not to use the technology. Yet.

"Did I hear that young Eliza has started crossing over?"

"Um..." Peter hesitated. They hadn't really been telling people that one either. "How did you hear about that?"

"I still have sources in the Bridge, Bishop. So what happened?"

"We had an argument about her curfew," he told him. "When we sent her to her room, she decided to try and cross over."

"Without any training?" Broyles asked, impressed.

"None. She knew Olivia could, but she had never shown signs of being able to. When it did work, she couldn't figure out how to get back. Ended up calling a cab and going to my mom's place."

"And I thought it was bad when my daughter didn't listen to me and got an art degree."

Peter held up a hand. "Don't even get me started on college. Eliza is already talking about going to Hawaii."

"Play up everything New York City has to offer," Broyles advised. "But don't mention the Fringe jet can get you there in less than hour."

"I like the way you think, sir. Thank you for the idea."

"I wasn't elected only on my looks," Broyles joked, which was so wonderful and unexpected Peter choked as he laughed. Eliza, who was walking by with Jenny, gave her father and the straight-faced friend of the family an odd look.

"What were you two talking about?" she asked.

"Politics," Peter explained when he could breathe again.

"Uh huh," she said, not really believing it. But she continued on and joined Astrid, Lincoln, and Olivia's conversation, her head coming to rest on her mother's shoulder. Jenny went to the corner where Jeremy was sitting. She needed to give him a hard time for reading the latest J.K. Rowling book during a party.

"I should get going," Broyles said. "I have to catch a plane back to Washington tonight, but I wanted to offer my congratulations."

"Well, I wish you could stay longer," Peter told him, shaking his hand for the second time in as many minutes, "but I don't want to stop you from continuing to be one of those rare politicians who actually does work."

"Thank you, Bishop. Enjoy your time off." Broyles said his farewells to the others and left.

Meanwhile, Rachel sidled up to Lincoln with two drinks and handed him one. "Ella called, she says she's on her way," she told the group.

"Is Alex coming?" Lincoln asked.

Rachel scrunched up her face in displeasure. "Yeah, the fiance is coming."

"Wait, the guy she met abroad?" Eliza gave Olivia an incredulous look. "You didn't tell me they were engaged!"

"I didn't know either," Olivia defended. Everyone but Lincoln glared at Rachel, waiting for an explanation.

"I was hoping they would have ended it by now," Rachel admitted. "She's far too young."

"She's older than you were for your first marriage," Olivia pointed out evilly.

"And I should have gotten out of that relationship a lot sooner," Rachel said, taking a sip of her alcohol. "I don't trust Alex. He could be after a green card."

"You're too tough on them," Lincoln stated. "I like him. And Ella knows how to take care of herself."

"Yeah, she does," agreed Astrid knowingly. She still had a scar on her shin from the first time Lincoln had brought his step-daughter to the FBI training gym. The second time Lincoln brought her along he had ended up with a bloody nose (thankfully, it had not marred his adorable features). After that, they sent her to a Sensei to learn control.

"What's that now?" Peter asked, coming over after Broyles left.

"We were just saying how Ella can handle herself with her new fiance," Astrid explained.

"Oh yeah, she can," Peter agreed, remembering a nasty bruise on his brow that took a while to heal.

"Where's Charlie?" Olivia asked him.

"Last I saw he was playing chess with Walter."

"Oh, did someone give you a chess set as a retirement gift?"

"Uh..." Peter shifted his weight. "No, actually, it's the office's."

Olivia's eyes went wide. "We have games?"

"Way to sell us out to the boss!" Lincoln exclaimed. Both he and Astrid glared at Peter as if they had been betrayed. "Just because you're leaving and can't get in trouble for slacking off, you think it's okay to tell her?"

"I always said I'd tell the truth if she asked me," Peter reminded them.

"Hey, shouldn't I be the one insulted here?" Olivia asked. All eyes went to her, ready for her to start a lecture about wasting time, but what she said shocked them instead. "You all have been playing games and no one invited me!"

"You would have played?" Peter asked, surprised that Olivia could still surprise him.

"We've been working so well we've actually had down time," Olivia explained. "Did you guys think I don't get as bored as you do?"

"Do you want to play now?" Lincoln asked. Astrid stepped over to her cluttered desk and pulled out _Monopoly_, _Clue_, _Scrabble_, _Chutes and Ladders_, and for some reason a game called _Is the Pope Catholic?_

They started a round of _Scrabble_. Soon their fellow agents/family from the Other Side arrived and Peter's little retirement party turned into a game night.

After winning twelve rounds of a memory game her alternate had challenged her to, Olivia took a break. She sat next to Peter, who was relaxing on top of his cleared out desk with a drink.

"I'm going to miss you around here," she told him, absentmindedly scratching her neck. The wound had healed well and the scar was barely noticeable, but she had been left some sort of phantom itchiness.

"We should have lunch dates when you can get out of the office." Peter put down his drink and pulled her hand away from her neck, holding it between both of his own. He hated any reminders of the drastic turn his life almost took, or of the possibility that they should not have done what they did. He still didn't know if he made the right decision, and he probably never would. The Observers were back to being spotted only at major world events, so there was little chance September would appear to tell Peter the consequences of his actions as he once did for Walter.

Olivia smiled as she watched his fingers quickly tap against the tips of her perfectly shaped nails. "Would it be the kind of lunch date where we actually eat lunch, or our usual kind, where we go home to have sex when the kids won't walk in on us?"

Peter smirked, but his voice was very serious when he answered. "We'll have time for both if I make lunch before you get home."

"Excellent problem solving," Olivia chuckled. She freed her hand and used it to drape one of his arms over her shoulder, so she could properly lean against him. They watched the games continue from their perch on the desk.

Henry and Eliza swapped card tricks while he talked about studying mechanical engineering at the newly-reopened MIT of the red universe. Charlie was creaming his namesake's alternate in a game of chess. And if the way Walter kept spinning around in his wheelchair had any significance, he was doing very well in _Monopoly_.

The wheelchair was the one thing Walter didn't fight his doctors on, probably because it could be so fun, and he found joy in watching the kids borrow it to give each other rides. It was going to be a struggle to take care of him in many different ways, Peter knew, but it was worth it if it meant his father would never live in an institution again. If it would keep their family whole and complete for as long as possible.

"Don't get hurt when I'm not around," Peter told Olivia for possibly the hundredth time since he decided to retire.

"I won't," Olivia promised. She watched as Eliza pulled off a card trick without Henry figuring it out for the second time. Peter followed her gaze.

"You know you promised to live until she's 40."

"And I'm keeping that promise," Olivia assured him. "Actually, I'm thinking I should live even longer."

"Really?"

"Yeah. While I don't appreciate Walter telling our teenage daughter he wants a great-grandchild before he dies, he has the right idea."

"Okay," Peter said. "I'll agree to that. No more dying until our kids have grandchildren."

"And Henry doesn't count for you," Olivia pointed out. "That's not fair."

Peter laughed, but agreed. He'd want to meet all of his great-grandchildren anyway.

Walter somehow managed to win _Monopoly_ in record time and called everyone together for a game of _Is the Pope Catholic? _Peter and Olivia joined the others and found out the hard way that the game was surprisingly difficult for everyone involved. They still had fun though, and came away with a newfound gratitude for Vatican 2.

Unfortunately, after several hours of games and the occasional victory dance, the night had to come to the end. There were no speeches or grand gestures, but all of the agents thought to themselves of how momentous of an event this was. The main Fringe team, which had battled scientific crime and universal calamities together for two decades, was losing one of its core members for the first time since Broyles moved on to Washington.

It was a bittersweet drive home. For once, Peter didn't have to hurry so he could get some sleep before work. But the thought of not seeing Astrid or Lincoln the next day was simply _weird_.

It wasn't until Charlie started complaining about Jeremy beating him in _Chutes and Ladders _that Peter decided to plan the next game night. For a rematch.

* * *

><p>AN: There is just 12 of a chapter (really, it's a drabble) left in this fic, but I'm opening up the floor for questions. If you guys are curious about something in this timeline I've created, ask about it in a message or a review and I'll incorporate the answer in the final bit of the story. I'll probably update this weekend, but it depends on how crazy my schedule gets. (Example of my strange life during the school year: today I went to a work meeting with wet feet, covered in grass stains, and carrying a broom. It didn't faze anybody.)


	22. M&M's

A man in a dark gray suit and a gray hat walked down a hospital hallway. He glanced into only one of the rooms he walked past, but he did not pause.

The man continued outside. He came to a full stop when he came to a similarly dressed man who seemed unaffected by the snow that was falling. They stood together and gazed at the window of the very room the first man had briefly looked into.

Inside, a young man placed his newborn son into the arms of the baby's grandmother. A smile spread across her wrinkled face as she took in her first grandchild's tiny features.

"Are you still glad that you helped her?" the second man asked the first.

"I am... glad," the first said, tilting his head as if he was considering the word. "I think it has made the world... better."

"We will see if it continues on that path," the second said.

An older man, in his sixties just like the woman, wrapped one arm around his wife. The other went to their grandson, so he could feel the soft skin of the baby's cheek. Their son and their daughter-in-law, tired but happy, watched as the new grandparents cooed over the child.

Snow had collected on the brims of their hats by the time two men turned and started to walk away. The first pulled a small package from his pocket.

"Would you like an M&M?" he asked his companion. The other nodded and selected a yellow one.

"I've never tried the yellow," the first commented. "Though I do not think there is a difference in the taste."

The second ate it, though he couldn't taste anything at all. "Are you going to return in eight days when the cousin is born?"

"Yes. I like to see them _**happy**_."

FIN

* * *

><p>AN: And thus it was, this fic was ended. Two months to the day since I set out typing it all up.<p>

Big thanks to marifreica, Fringe Fanatic, Gothic Music Angle, angellcakes23, The Fiction Spider, Niv, Newton, and WalterWalternate for reviewing!

Also a big thank you to Bryn, without whom this fic probably would have happened anyway, and Julia, without whom this fic probably wouldn't have happened.

Without all of you guys this would have never made it to 90 pages in the Google doc I used, and I wouldn't have found out I can actually finish something.

To answer the question I recieved: Niv, I don't know if Sam ever wears a dress. He very well may, but it was never something I thought about while watching Fringe or writing this. Sorry I couldn't think of how to incorporate it into the story... maybe next time?

I do want to write more fics, but we'll see how that goes now that I actually have daily commitments. Speaking of which, I'm involved with Amnesty International. If any of you like human rights and not killing people, you should go here: http: / blog. amnestyusa. org/deathpenalty/dont-let-georgia-kill-troy-davis/ (remove the spaces). I don't want to spam, but it is a serious issue that needs support.

I hope this story helped everyone get through the summer hiatus... only two weeks until Fringe comes back, yay!

And... THANK YOU FOR READING!


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